Fortune's Spite
by Mendeia
Summary: Arc 1 of The Temple Steps Alight series. In the wake of Blair's dissertation disaster, Blair goes seeking answers (with Jim not far behind). Meanwhile, the Quests are out seeking adventure. When these brave souls are thrown together, what they find in themselves and each other will change them forever - and in time, the very world. Arc 2 will be up within a week!
1. Chapter 1

The phoenix hope, can wing her way through the desert skies, and still defying fortune's spite; revive from ashes and rise.

- Miguel de Cervantes

-==OOO==-

A man sat in the shadows, the only light from the screen of his laptop. He flipped rapidly from screen to screen, some news articles, others intercepted emails. A small smile tugged at his lips, and he enlarged a picture of the object of his thoughts, blinking into the sunlight.

"Everything is in place. He cannot help but be drawn here now. And at last things will be as they should."

-==OOO==-

Blair was nervous.

Of course, anybody could have told that. Rapid pacing, muttering, a tense, jittery stillness broken by more pacing – it didn't take a cop to identify anxiety from those symptoms.

But then, it did take a Sentinel to identify the symptoms from three stories down.

Jim opted for the stairs, not in a particular rush. He could hardly blame the guy for being stressed – two weeks ago, his life had been utterly turned upside-down, changed almost beyond repair when his dissertation had gone public. After all the fallout, Sandburg had called it a "paradigm shift," but Jim tended to think of it more like a "paradigm annihilation." Jim could sympathize. He'd had one of his own a few years prior when one nutty anthropologist had told him what his whacked-out senses really meant. But Jim had had the advantage then – while a redefinition of self hadn't been fun in the slightest, he'd had the normalcy of everything else in his life to fall back on while he got his bearings in the new landscape. Blair hadn't just lost his life's goal and self-identity to the dissertation mess – he was facing total restart of _everything_ he'd ever wanted or expected.

Except his friends. He hadn't lost them. And Jim hoped he knew it.

Jim reached the familiar door and opened it without hesitating. "Hey Sandburg," he greeted, catching his roommate in mid-pace.

"Hi Jim."

Jim glanced over to make sure there wasn't any evidence of stress beyond the obvious before he set about hanging up his coat and dropping his keys in the basket at the door as usual. "Picked up some basics for dinner," he reported. "The Jags are on in about an hour. Should be a good game."

"Yeah, yeah." Blair ran a hand through his usually-unruly hair absently. "Hey Jim? I gotta talk to you."

Yup, there it was. One of the major differences between them – it didn't take any effort or really any special behavior on Jim's part to get his friend to spill whatever was eating at him. Which didn't mean he didn't care, of course, just that Blair was apt to talk about whatever was on his mind no matter the circumstances. When Blair needed to talk, Jim listened. When Jim needed to talk, well, first Blair had to kick, punch, and drag it out of him, but when he managed that, then he listened too.

"What's on your mind, Chief?" Jim asked, shoving most of the groceries into the fridge casually. But he didn't start in on any cooking, instead turning back to his friend.

"Okay, so…" Blair took a breath and launched into his thoughts rapidly as if afraid to stop. "I've been doing a lot of thinking this week while waiting for all the dust to settle and I've come to a couple of conclusions and I don't know what to do about them. First is that I need to really clear my head somehow, because I can't even walk outside without watching for reporters even though there haven't been any in days and I know I'm old news now but I'm still looking for them, you know? I think I need to get out of here a while so I don't look around every corner with fear."

Jim nodded and waited. Sandburg had warmed to his topic and was starting to rock back and forth, punctuating his words with subdued gestures.

"Second is that I'm not really sure of anything else. I feel like I'm so caught up I can't think straight."

"You mean you don't know if you want to be my partner." Jim said it carefully neutrally.

"No, man! No, I _definitely_ want to be your partner." Blair met his eyes with a bright almost-desperation. "Even though I keep thinking you're gonna change your mind about that."

"Not a chance, Sandburg."

A relieved smile broke through the rest of Blair's anxious expression. "Good. Yeah. Okay. But…"

"You're worried about the Academy."

"Yeah. And not just that. About everything!" Blair's arms went wide. "I'm your partner no matter what, but I don't know about being anything else yet, either a cadet or a detective or just plain old me, you know? I'm an outcast from my chosen society now, and it's messing with my head."

"You're not an outcast to us," Jim said solidly. "The department still backs you."

"Yeah but…I've been a student for almost 15 years. Turning off the part of my brain that says 'I am an academic and my primary social group is Rainier' isn't going so well."

"So what are you saying?" Jim kept himself still. There was too much room here for Sandburg to read something in his body language and take it the wrong way. They'd had more than enough of that lately.

"I just…I need to get away. I need to clear my head for real, not just sit here meditating and worrying every time the phone rings that it's somebody wanting to talk to me about being a fraud." His actions slowed. "And I…I still kind of want to finish my dissertation."

"What? Why?" That was a surprise.

"I know it'll never go anywhere now," Blair huffed a defeated laugh. "But I've been working towards that book since I could reach the middle shelf in the library. I can't just stop it now. The Sentinel thing, even if the whole world thinks I'm full of it, I owe it to both of us to finish what I started."

Jim nodded. He could respect that. There are some things a man shouldn't let go, even when they end. He'd had more than one case like that, cases he refused to close, refused to drop off his desk on principle, even though they were deader than their victims. Even if there was absolutely no chance of solving them, closing the case was a betrayal of the person who'd died to put it on his desk in the first place.

"I got a call," Blair said, now moving to the answering machine. He hit the button to play the message.

"Hi Blair. This is Eli. Look, I don't have a lot of time here, but I had to call. I heard about the university. I'm sorry, Blair. And you're no fraud. I'm sure you had a good reason for what you did, but you and I both know you were lying then and not when you wrote that paper. I'm more sorry now than I was before that you didn't come to Borneo when I asked you the first time. Maybe you wouldn't have ended up like this. But that's why I'm calling now. My expedition here is finally done, but something's come up and I'm staying for a while longer and I want you to come out. This time it's my project, my funding, and nobody gets to tell me who I can or can't have, and I want you. It's…there's a rumor of a tribe up the Baleh River with a Sentinel, Blair. You should be here with me to make contact. I'm finishing up the official expedition now so you might not catch me on the phone, but I've got intermittent email access and I'll be sending you the details. I expect to hear back from you. Don't back out on me now, Blair. I need you to be on this one and I think you do, too. I'll talk to you soon."

After the beep confirming the end of the message, there was a silence in the loft. Sandburg was looking at the answering machine as if it were still speaking; Jim was looking at Blair.

"I got the email," Blair said after a long quiet. "Doctor Stoddard is using private funds to stay on for two months to follow this rumor. It's not really even an expedition, just me and him and the locals heading upriver on a wild goose chase. No way would any university ever sign off on it. Which is why he's going," he smiled a little fondly, eyes still downcast. "Eli likes to do zany things sometimes."

"I'm starting to see why you picked him for your mentor," Jim said, smiling slightly.

"He always believed in me," Blair said. "He read everything I ever wrote on Sentinels, backed me up when the program wanted me to pick a different topic. And now…"

"Chief, he's trying to help you," Jim put in. "You don't have to defend him to me."

Sandburg looked up and met Jim's eyes gratefully. "Right. So, he really wants me to go down to Borneo, go with him to see if we can find a Sentinel."

"And you want to go."

"Yeah! But I don't know, man." He let out a long breath and moved to stand across from Jim. "It's…it would let me get one more shot at being an anthropologist, you know? One more chance to be what I used to be – before. But I don't want to leave now, either. There's so much…" he gestured vaguely at the loft, Jim, everything.

"Look, Sandburg," Jim put a hand on his shoulder. "The first time you gave up Borneo, you did it because of the Sentinel thing."

"And the friendship thing," Blair said firmly.

"Yeah, okay, and that," Jim brushed past it. "But that was going to be a huge deal, you said. At least a year, and we were still figuring out a lot of the stuff with my senses. This is a couple of months, right? And it might be your last chance. If you're hesitating because of me, stop it. It sounds like this is what you need. Unless you think you'll get your head together better up at that monastery than you would in Borneo?"

"No. I think I need to get to my roots and figure out which way I want to grow."

"Then do it," Jim nodded. "I can handle two months on my own. And when you get back, there will still be time to go to the Academy or do whatever you decide to do. We're not gonna close down the Major Crimes offer because you take a break first."

The visible relief that poured through Blair made Jim realize how much his friend had been hurting the last few weeks. Ripping away Rainier, his doctorate, his academic life, it had broken something in that bright person, and only now was Jim realizing how much he had missed it. He squeezed the warm shoulder under his touch.

"One condition, though," he warned.

"What's that?"

"I don't care how bad reception is down there. You will call me _every three days_ to confirm that you're okay."

"Don't you think that's a little…?" Blair started.

"No it isn't. I know you, Sandburg. Two months alone in the jungle with one professor and some hired help? If Simon can get himself captured by drug-runners on a weekend excursion, I don't even want to contemplate the trouble you're going to get yourself into." There was a glint of humor in his smile.

"You could come with me."

Jim could see that his friend was warring with that offer. And he didn't need Sandburg's psychology minor to know why.

"I've got cases here," he deflected. But then he said, "And you will clear your head better without me there messing it up. You have to decide if you want that badge that's waiting for you, and I can't help you do that." Even if Jim would rather his partner had decided to go to the monastery or a local retreat or something, not a jungle halfway around the world as far from any possible help as he could get. But then, there'd been an assassination attempt at the monastery, and with Blair's luck the local retreat would get targeted by gun-toting crime bosses or something. That was just life in the Sandburg Zone.

"Every three days," Blair nodded. "Got it." He smiled. "Thanks, man. Thanks for understanding."

"Yeah, well," Jim let go and turned back to dinner. "Just don't make me come down there after you. Because you know I will."

"Yeah," Blair nodded, and even with his back turned, Jim could feel the smile. "I know you will."

-==OOO==-

Blair gazed out the airplane window, watching with a strange feeling in his chest as the ground dropped away and Cascade vanished behind thick, foggy clouds.

_If I were a Sentinel, I bet I could still see Jim's truck from here_, he thought.

The strange feeling broke apart into a mix of several. Blair closed his eyes and leaned his head back. A moment later, when he was allowed to use electronic devices, he filtered out the world through earth music in his headphones. His feelings slowly revealed themselves as his mind let go.

Certainly, bright and brittle on the edges there was excitement – a new adventure, a new people, a new world to explore lay before him. Curiosity, keen interest, enthusiasm, these were his old friends on flights to parts unknown.

Inside that was a deeper, stronger interest in finding another Sentinel. Some of that was the old obsession that had led him to Jim in the first place after a lifetime of searching. Some of it, too, was the desire to prove himself, his theories, even if no one in the world would ever know about it. Truth and knowledge always matter, even if they are kept in the silent dark place between the heart and soul. Naomi had taught him that.

Of course, Blair couldn't think about meeting another Sentinel without feeling his body tense at remembering the last one. Alex Barnes had nearly killed him – _had_ killed him, in fact. Only Jim had saved him. But then, Alex had also been insane to start with totally independently of her Sentinel senses. There was no guarantee that another Sentinel would be Alex instead of Jim. Blair was hoping that he'd paid enough karma lately to earn a boost from the universe on that score. And besides, he needed to know that the topic to which he had devoted his life, and lost much of it, could be based on people like Jim. With a sample-size of two, Blair had no way of knowing if Sentinels were inherently good, evil, or just people. He wanted to believe they were good and Alex was the exception, but until he met another he wouldn't know for sure. He needed "being a Sentinel" to fade from an almost mythical pedestal to being a descriptor. A remarkable and amazing descriptor, but a descriptor like "short-tempered" or "thick as mud." He had to know that.

Because under the fear of Alex-the-Sentinel was a fear of Jim-the-Sentinel.

Blair would trust Jim-his-friend with anything – his life, his heart, his fears. But sometimes it was like a switch went off in Jim's mind and he stopped being Jim Ellison, detective and best friend, and turned into Jim-the-Sentinel who was prickly, territorial, distrustful, and most of all solitary. Blair knew that Sentinels in general often had partners in the field to help guide them through their senses and watch their backs. But when at his most Sentinel, Jim often displayed extremely antisocial characteristics. Just like Alex. Blair had to know if it was something to do with being a Sentinel or if it was something to do with being Jim. He had to know so he could decide if he could live with it anymore.

Because that was the root of all things. Not this two-month trip of a lifetime. The hanging, looming question before him – now what?

Blair could never return to Rainier, which had been his home, his _world_, since the age of 16. He had closed that door with the first words of his press conference three weeks before. There was another door open and waiting for him at the Cascade Police Department, and yet Blair was hesitating at the threshold. Could he really become a cop? Carry a gun, possibly shoot someone, live a life where people saw the shield before they saw his face? He just didn't know.

But if he turned away from the Cascade PD, then what? How could he be Jim's partner if he didn't follow through as a cop? How could he keep what he'd built – and broken, and tried to rebuild with limited success so far, it seemed – if he refused? And could he even keep it anyway?

That was the real question. Could he, even in a perfect world where he jumped at the chance to be Jim's official police partner, still actually _be_ Jim's partner after everything that had happened? Could he trust Jim not to pack up his stuff again at the slightest fight? Could he keep making the effort to look beyond the patented Ellison-Glare-Of-Privacy to coax out the man who lived inside? Could he bend his shoulder to the wheel of forever being the awkward, unexpected shadow at Jim's side knowing that the entire world might never regard him with anything kinder than suspicion?

Away from Jim, out in the world like he had been before he'd ever found a real-life Sentinel, this was what Blair was determined to decide. If he couldn't live as a cop, if he couldn't get up the courage and fortitude to decide to stay anyway (and decide it every single day and every single argument and every single hurtful joke from whoever decided to poke at them this time), he would find it out there. And he needed to find those answers before he could face Jim again.

And who knew? Maybe if he decided he couldn't live in Jim's world, couldn't be a cop, couldn't fix his own broken parts that made Jim-the-Sentinel so ever-living terrifying, maybe he'd just stay wherever he was. Borneo was as good a place as any to spend a lifetime. If there was no future in Cascade, there was no better place to start over. And hope, of course, that whatever spot he picked was remote enough and hard enough to find that Jim would accept his answer and not hunt him down anyway. Because he knew Jim would come after him unless he could give him a really, _really_ good reason not to.

Blair felt himself sliding into a deeper mediation, farther away from himself and reality and closer to the true unknowable, and he let go. He had two months to find his answers before he had to worry about telling Jim either way. Time to let that worry slide away and focus on the journey into his future, and himself, that was before him.

-==OOO==-

Sandburg kept his promise and called dutifully every three days from the moment he touched down in Borneo. For three weeks, even if they only took a few minutes, he babbled excitedly about the jungle, the local guides, the reports of the tribe so far up the river only a multi-day boat ride with a portage could get them close, renewing his friendship with Eli Stoddard, and everything else that came into the kid's head.

Jim enjoyed the calls, even if he wouldn't admit it. He hadn't seen a lot of the partner who ranted at full speed without stopping to breathe. Whatever Blair decided when he got home, he was evidently finding himself again now. The Sentinel was glad.

Then Blair missed a call.

For one day, Jim didn't worry at all. He knew from the last call that Sandburg and Stoddard were approaching a sensitive period in their expedition – they'd spent three weeks getting close enough to the tribe in question to observe, but now came the moment for their actual, formal first contact. And with Borneo on the other side of the world, the time-difference could have been a factor.

On the second day, Jim scoured the news reports for anything that might explain the silence, from a satellite outage to political upheaval in the region. Nothing.

On the third day, Jim walked into Captain Banks's office.

"It's been almost a week since I heard from Sandburg," he said without preamble. "I'm going down there."

Simon didn't bother asking whether or not it was too early to worry. He knew Sandburg's history. "Do you think he's okay?" He put down his cigar.

"I don't know, Simon," Jim shook his head with a frown. "It's not like I can hear him from here."

"Do you want backup?" was Simon's next question.

"Sir, I don't really know if…"

"Not another word, Ellison," Simon stood. "When Daryl and I got lost in that godforsaken jungle in Peru, the kid followed you and protected my boy. When you and I went to Mexico, he was right there with Connor to back us up. Near as I can figure, I owe him at least that much."

"This isn't like that."

"Why not?"

Jim turned to look out the window. "There might be another Sentinel involved this time."

Simon exploded. "Like Alex Barnes? _Dammit_, Ellison! Why'd you let him go alone, then? You know what happened last time!"

"Half the reason I went so crazy was because of proximity to another Sentinel," Jim replied tightly. "I thought Blair would actually be safer if I _didn't_ go into another Sentinel's territory. As soon as I get there, whatever's gone wrong will start to go worse."

"Or that other Sentinel might have already-" he stopped.

"No." Jim's eyes went cold. "No, if Blair were already dead, I'd know. I'd _have_ to know."

That sounded like one of those Sentinel things Simon always asked not to be told. For once, he was glad for that creepy, inexplicable mystical side to Jim's abilities. Simon didn't want to know the details, but he could see from Jim's face that Jim didn't believe for one second that Blair was dead. And if he didn't believe it was possible that he could be wrong, then he wasn't. Jim's rock-solid belief was good enough for Simon.

"All the more reason for me to back you up, then," Simon folded his arms against his chest. "You're gonna need somebody to help you keep your head through that mess."

"It's not that I don't appreciate the offer. And Sandburg'd be over the moon if he thought you cared," Jim began.

"I _do_ care! Just don't tell him so," Simon growled. "Kid's one of ours now."

"You can't help me in the jungle, Simon." Jim turned fully and glared. "No offense, but for all you're pretty good in the wilderness, you're still a city cop. Even Sandburg at least knows how to move through the land even if he does it chattering nonstop. I'm going to be in places where there aren't paths through the jungle, where I'll have to live off the land. If I'm dealing with another Sentinel, I need someone who can keep up."

"Never thought I'd see the day I'd be sorry I wasn't more of a naturalist," Simon grimaced.

"Or an Army Ranger," Jim added. "Look, you want to help. I get that. So help me by not telling anybody else about this."

"Why?" The captain regathered his cigar and chomped at it with narrowed eyes.

"It could be nothing. Busted phone. Bad connection. Hell, Simon, the kid could be hitchhiking canoes to get back to civilization so he can call me with a long explanation before I come down there and kick his ass. If I let this get everybody worried, he won't forgive me." Jim dropped his eyes. "He still complains about people thinking he's made of glass."

"After what happened at that fountain, can you blame anybody?" Simon returned. "Nobody ever wants to see that happen again."

"Sandburg's still supposed to be gone for a month. Give me that much time before you spread the word."

"You want me to let you go and not worry until the trail is _five weeks_ cold?"

"I'll keep in touch," Jim said. "If you don't hear from me, in a month you can release the hounds."

"I don't like this, Jim. I don't have to be a Sentinel to know that something's wrong here." Simon sat back down. It was distinctly not his first-, second- or third-preferred plan, not the most intelligent, certainly not the most reasonable course of action. But long experience with Detective Jim Ellison had taught Simon how often his best investigator was none of those things.

"I know. I don't like it either. Thanks, captain."

"Ellison." Simon's voice stopped him with his hand on the doorknob. "Bring him back to us."

"Yes, sir." Jim's face hardened. "That's a promise."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Hi there!

So, just a couple of things that seem worth saying. First of all, this story is totally done. In fact, it is the first of four (yup, count 'em, four) completed novel-length stories and a short-story anthology all set in the same series. This is just where it all begins. I'm simul-posting this story between my fanfic account here and AO3, and the AO3 version has a pretty cover (and can also be tied together as a proper series), but the content is the same. The series is called "The Temple Steps Alight" and will have regular updates every 5.2 days – that's what the math says for updating for the duration of 2015. That's how long it will be to get all the way to the end of this massive 300,000+ word thing that consumed most of my writing last year. And yeah, I wrote it all in about 8 months.

Anyway, point being there's TONS yet to come, and it's all done, so the only waiting is for the 5.2 day delay to keep me from spamming people (and, obviously, to build tension). Settle in for a journey that, I hope, will forge some new ground in two fandoms – one very well traveled and one absolutely tiny.

There's a lot more to say – enough so that I think I may end up putting up a Glossary of Mendeia's Many Thoughts at the end – but for now, sit back and relax.

And enjoy!

* * *

><p>"You'd <em>think<em>," Race panted, "after how many years of this I'd be used to it!"

"Yes, but if you ever managed to pack your duffel-bag without resorting to shouting," Hadji replied, laughing, "we might be convinced you had been replaced or brainwashed. Again. And that was enough trouble for once, I believe."

"Har har," Race glared mockingly at the young Indian man. "I suppose you're better than Jonny, though. He always points out that the problem isn't that the duffel is getting smaller so much as that my clothing must be getting bigger. And Jess backs him up with that physics proof of hers about increasing mass."

"You must admit, at least no one can claim our family lacks in understanding of basic physical properties," Hadji pointed out. "A more typical response from our peers would, I am certain, simply be to call you, _ahem_." He stopped and coughed.

"Finish that sentence and you won't live to see college, kid," Race grumbled with a fond scowl.

"It never ceases to amaze me," Benton ducked through the open flap of the tent, "that you can use that duffel for a one-night overnight or a full two weeks and it's always bursting. What have you got in there, anyway?"

"Two changes of clothes, rations, a med kit, emergency locator beacon, _backup_ emergency beacon, _backup_ med kit, and a change of clothes for Jessie and Jonny," Race recited as he fixed his attention on the stubborn zipper. "Plus my standard survival gear and detailed maps from the surrounding area for about two hundred square miles, of course."

"Isn't that a bit of overkill?" Doctor Quest perched on the camp chair set up next to Race's cot.

"With Jonny and Jessie?" Race paused in his efforts and faced his best friend fully. "In my opinion, this probably isn't nearly enough! But I can't fit a jeep in there, so I'm making do."

Benton chuckled and shook his head. "They do seem to attract trouble."

"_They_ attract trouble, Benton?" Race glared at him. "_They_ do? When I'm looking at the original troublemaker himself?" He stood and crossed his arms. "I got a pot on the phone for you, kettle."

"I only claim responsibility for Jonny," Benton put his hands up as his smile split his face broadly. "Jessie is all yours, Race."

"The only sensible one of the five of us is _him_," Race jerked a thumb at where Hadji was trying to keep his face straight with admirable aplomb. "That's the only reason I'm not dragging you both with me."

"Now, Race, Hadji and I aren't going anywhere," Doctor Quest said. "Between us staying in one place and Jonny and Jessie trying to get here from the city on their own, it's clear who needs your protection more." His broad smile melted into a more genuine one for the man who had been bodyguard and best friend for more than a decade.

"I know the drill, Doc," Race's own face softened. "We've done this a hundred times. I know you'll be fine. Unless you actually do find that snake."

"Not likely, Race," Hadji put in. "It will be unseasonably cool for the next three days, encouraging any reptiles to be sluggish at best. This will give Doctor Quest and I time to configure our equipment and scout the area, but that is all."

"Besides," Benton pointed out, "if we find the Nabau before Jonny gets here, he'll never forgive us."

"True that," Race smiled. "Just watch each others' backs, okay? And _no_ heroics," he tried to pin the pair with a glare but Benton and Hadji were the two members of the family totally immune to his ire. "Just stay out of trouble for the next 36 hours, okay?"

"We'll be fine, Race," Benton nodded.

"Remember, even the mountain eagle must leave her chicks to hunt and trust that her nest is high enough that they will be unharmed in her absence," Hadji said.

"Are you calling me a mother hen, Hadji?" Race accused, slapping the young man on the shoulder.

"Would I do that?" he replied with an impish smile.

"I'm fairly sure you just did, Hadj." Race took a last glance around before heading out of the tent, Doctor Quest and Hadji on his heels. "Remember that there's three emergency signals, one in the boat, one in the computer tent and one –"

"If you don't leave right now," Doctor Quest laughed, "you will actually miss your connection. As you said, we've done this a hundred times. We're fine. We'll see you tomorrow evening for dinner."

"All right, all right!" Race dumped his duffel in the small secondary boat and started the engine. "I know when I'm not welcome. See you guys later!" He waved and smiled as he steered into the river, expertly moving the craft along the current at a brisk pace. Most every other boat on this part of the river would be a longboat or a canoe that had to be rowed manually, but with the Quest family came a few tricks and perks.

"He has always been such a worrier," Benton smiled at his adopted son. "Protective to a fault."

"Well, in this family, it seems prudent for someone to do so!"

"Right you are, Hadji. Come on. Let's see about breakfast and then get to configuring our equipment. I'd hate for Race to get back here with the other two and have us behind schedule!"

"I'm sure Jessie wouldn't mind. She's been dying to try out the new sonar." Hadji followed back to the cook-fire.

"I know. But let's just keep this you and I for now."

He smiled warmly at Hadji, who returned the grin eagerly if subtly. It had taken a long time for the polite young man from Calcutta's streets to warm up enough to the family to let all his feelings show openly, and even now he was reserved beyond his years. Still, Benton knew Hadji's heart as well as he knew Jonny's. He might not be a blood son but from the moment Hadji Singh became Hadji Singh Quest, Benton had loved him just the same.

The two of them had shared a special bond for the last two or three years that drew them close beyond father and son. All three of the teenagers were highly intelligent and capable above even their most ambitious peers, but Hadji was in a class unto himself. When Doctor Quest had adopted him, he had begun home-schooling the boy to supplement his poor education. In only a few years Hadji had not only caught up with Jonny at the top of the class, but had quickly surpassed him. Benton taught all three of them different disciplines in his work from computer programming to archeology, but it was Hadji who had passionately asked to work beside him as a proper research assistant. From the time he had been 16, Hadji had completed enough coursework to attend any college of his choice, and now two years later he could easily have gotten a full four-year degree after only a semester or two at any university. Instead, Hadji had opted to remain as Benton's assistant, traveling with him and building up credits as his experience mounted. Because his schooling was all but done already, he had had no final exams to keep him in Maine like the other two while Doctor Quest and Race had been called to Borneo.

But now finals were over and Jessie and Jonny, having gotten straight A's as usual (except for Jonny's one B+ earned in a math course not because he wasn't more than fine at mathematics but because he couldn't stand the rigid structure of the class), they were on their way. It had been a good three weeks of research as far as Benton was concerned, slowly moving their way up the river, taking a few days at each site where they could look for signs of the mysterious 100-foot snake that had been photographed in the area. Called "Nabau" by the local people for a mythical serpent said to live somewhere near the Baleh River, the news of the creature's multiple sightings could not keep Benton away. The phenomenologist thought this time might be the best opportunity to identify a new species he'd seen in years, and as he already knew from experience that megafauna lived undiscovered in Borneo, he had jumped at the chance to uncover another.

Three weeks away from the others, it was more apparent than ever how different Hadji was from Jonny and Jessie. Perhaps strangely, Jessie was more like Doctor Quest than her own father on an intellectual level, and Jonny seemed to have taken after Race in personality. Neither of these things bothered their respective fathers – though they'd never admitted it, each man was proud that his child had taken after the person he most admired in the world. But Hadji stood a little apart, a bit because of his innate differences, and a bit because he did not act like his seventeen-year-old adopted brother and figuratively-adopted sister. Hadji was reserved, mature, patient, and possessed of an ageless sort of wisdom. The time he spent with Jonny and Jessie had done much to open him up to joy and had given him the childhood the streets of Calcutta had denied him, but when alone with Race and Benton, he was more adult than teenager.

For the thousandth time, Benton wondered if he should have pushed Hadji to attend college when he had been ready two years prior instead of waiting. But above all, he trusted his son, and his son had said it was not yet time. Benton didn't have to understand Hadji's reasoning to know it was sound.

"Doctor Quest?" Hadji broke Benton out of his musings. Benton was startled to find a plate of eggs with a pair of sausages held out before him.

"Hadji, I'm sorry," he laughed a little. "I must have been lost in thought and didn't even notice you were working without me."

"So it seemed," Hadji smiled. "But perhaps those thoughts would not be so deep with a proper breakfast to fill you."

"Thanks for doing the cooking. I'll handle the dishes," Benton offered.

"It was my pleasure, Doctor Quest. And I will accept your fair exchange. I would like a bit more time to meditate this morning if you can spare me for an hour or so."

"Of course," Benton agreed. "Something on your mind?"

"An interesting way of putting it," Hadji noted as he stabbed his own sausage deftly. "Something brushing against the edge of it is more likely the truth. I wish to return to my wanderings to see if I can touch what I sensed earlier."

As with the decision about college, Benton didn't know much about Hadji's meditation, nor what he saw there. As Hadji himself had said, Benton and the rest of the Quest family were too much of a "literal type" mindset to fully comprehend the metaphysics he freely explored. But he trusted his son and that was enough.

"And breakfast makes for good provisions prior to meditation?"

"Not exactly. The best meditation is achieved while fasting," Hadji admitted. "But it was either that or risk being pulled from the astral by my stomach growling!"

-==OOO==-

It was not long before dawn when Race spotted two familiar forms blinking tiredly in the Kuching Airport lights.

"Hey you two!" Race called with a wave to one side of the luggage carousel.

"Hi dad!" Jessie called back, jet lag evident in her voice. But she smiled broadly and hugged him. "Thanks for coming to get us."

"Yeah. I'm sleepy enough I might tell the plane to take us to the wrong...something," Jonny gave up on whatever his joke would have been with a yawn.

"Didn't you two sleep on the flight?" Race asked, frowning.

"Couldn't," Jessie shrugged. "Not much, anyway."

"There was this guy," Jonny said, tired eyes rolling. "He was really getting into it with the flight attendants. And a baby crying, of course. Hard to ignore."

Race smiled sympathetically. The whole family was a little spoiled by the Dragonfly, making even international travel comfortable. But the 'Fly was already here in a nearby hangar, having brought Benton, Hadji, Race, and all their stuff weeks before. Commercial travel was tough at the best of times, and flights from Maine to Southeast Asia were not usually the best of times.

"Well, you can sleep on the next one, even if the flight isn't very long," Race said comfortingly. He shouldered the two carry-ons and reached for the giant seabag that had been his own standard-issue duffel years and years prior; over time it had become what Jonny almost always used to travel, and in this case, when most of the supplies had already been brought in, Jonny and Jessie crammed their stuff into it together. As he was hefting it to his opposite shoulder, his eyes landed on a tall man striding out of the airport with a faraway look. The close-cropped blondish hair screamed "military" to Race, as did the bearing, even exhausted.

Race deliberately turned away and herded Jessie and Jonny towards the elevator. Kuching was a big place. He'd be just as glad to get out of it and back to the quiet jungle where he didn't jump at every shadow that seemed to get anywhere near his family.

Checked luggage collected, Race guided the pair away from the public part of the airport terminal and headed towards where he could check in for their hired flight. He'd come in himself the night before and so was fully rested. Last night's pilot was on duty again, and Race was glad. The man was fully competent, but more importantly he wasn't much for idle chatter. As now, he greeted Race politely in English and nodded to the exhausted teens but spared them any other cheerful commentary.

"Anything else for Sibu?" he asked.

"Nope," Race shook his head. "We've got half a city with us out there already. Think we'll make it before sunrise?"

"If we take off on time," the pilot returned genially.

"What's Sibu like, dad?" Jessie asked as she settled into her seat, sparing only a glance as Race secured their bags in the tiny plane.

"Bigger than you'd expect," he said as he strapped down the seabag and took his own seat at the copilot's place. "But we won't see much other than the Wharf Terminal. We've got to take a boat to get to Song, and then a smaller boat to get all the way up the river to where we're camping. We'll be on the water most of the day, so you'll have plenty of time to nap."

"Gotta acclimate," Jonny said around a jaw-cracking yawn. "No napping after sunrise."

"He's right, dad."

Race knew that. It was one of the Quest rules besides "don't miss meals" and "don't touch whatever Benton is working on in his lab." When moving abroad into opposite time-zones, the whole family tried to adjust as quickly as possible, and the best way to do that was to stay awake in the daytime no matter how many hours it had been since what the body believed was nighttime back in Maine.

Race smiled at where Jonny and Jessie had both leaned their heads back and fallen asleep in their seats mid-conversation. It would be another hour before takeoff given the way things tended to work with small private craft at an airport like this, and another in the air. Race glanced over at the pilot and received a knowing wink. Yeah, he'd let the kids sleep a while. And if either of them dropped off on the boat, well, given that they'd both been living off nothing but caffeine and finals for more than a week, it wouldn't hurt them to bend the rules too much this time.

-==OOO==-

"Doctor Quest?"

"Yes Hadji?"

"Race requested we remain out of trouble for 36 hours, did he not?"

Benton sighed. "Yes, that's what he said."

"If we continue on our current course, we will miss that goal by approximately twelve hours."

Even without turning his head, Benton could hear the wry smile. He huffed a laugh. "I know."

Before dawn that morning, a shrill beeping had woken both Benton and Hadji, who had rolled out of their cots with the speed of men who had relied upon their reflexes to save their lives more than once. The beeping was not the perimeter alarm for the camp, but instead the newly-calibrated sonar equipment signaling that something unusual was moving in the water. Nothing lived in the Baleh River larger than the Empurau fish, so only something large and moving quickly could set off the equipment. It could have been a canoe or a log, of course, but the sonar was meant to exclude non-living mass as well.

Benton and Hadji had slipped from the tent and crept to the concealed spot where their computers were set up – within sight of the river but hidden in a blind. With the silent practice of years of working together, Hadji had moved to the night-vision binoculars to peer into the darkness while Benton had seated himself at the computer.

"Definitely not a serpent," Benton had reported softly. "The shape is all wrong."

That was when the sounds of shouting had reached them.

Perhaps a sensible, careful pair would have listened to the anger and violence evident in the yelling that was too indistinct to make out words but loud enough to convey emotion and realized this was _not_ a place they wanted to be. Perhaps a sensible, careful pair would have immediately activated the emergency beacon and run for a concealed spot in the jungle to wait out the obvious threat.

The Quests, even Benton and Hadji, were by nature more curious than they were sensible, and more brave than they were careful. Forgetting the readings in the river and exchanging a quick nod, they had slipped from the blind and began slowly creeping through the jungle towards the yelling.

A few moments after their exchange, Hadji and Benton froze as the sound of someone furtively making their way towards them put both on their guards. The pre-dawn light was just starting to touch the canopy, and it gave enough for those with night-adjusted vision to peer through the trees.

"Oh, man, don't shoot!" exclaimed a young man as he came towards them. "I'm not with those guys, I promise!"

"Are you all right?" Hadji asked first, spotting a dark red patch on the man's chest. If he was surprised to find someone speaking American English and looking like he belonged anywhere but here, he didn't mention it.

"Yeah, it's not my blood." He came to a stop a few paces away. "Look, we've got to get out of here! They're coming!"

"Follow us," Benton ordered. "We can alert the authorities from our camp."

"Who are they?" Hadji asked as the man fell in between himself and Doctor Quest. "And who are you?"

"I'm Blair. Blair Sandburg. And I have no idea who they are, but they're really bad news!"

More shouting, and this time there was the clear sound of dogs barking.

"Oh, man! Jim's going to kill me!"

-==OOO==-

It was just after noon when Race's simple trip up the river in the canoe became a lot more complicated. Jonny and Jessie had taken turns napping throughout the morning, but both were awake and eager by now, adrenaline doing wonders to banish the fatigue of travel. It was Jonny who tapped on Race's shoulder as he gazed upriver.

"What's that?"

Race squinted in the bright sunlight. It took him a moment to blink before he believed what he was seeing.

"Someone's in the water!" he exclaimed. "Jess, take the motor. Jonny, get ready for a water rescue. The med kit's in my pack."

As Jessie moved smoothly to the back seat and without prompting slowly stilled the engine, carefully steering them nearer, Race assessed. There was a person clearly unconscious or at the best semi-conscious, half-hanging over a log. As they drifted nearer, he could see a smear on the man's sleeve of what could only be blood.

Race leaned out of the boat to grab the man, but when the log bumped against the side of the canoe it was enough to dislodge him and he slipped underwater. Race dove at the same time, pulling the man up before he could breathe in too much water. With one arm hooked strongly around his shoulders, Race shoved at the log, noting as he did so that there were marks on it like it had been cut down using modern, western tools, not a fallen tree or something from the local people. For that matter, the man himself didn't look much like a local, going by his skin and hair.

"Here, Race!" Jonny said, reaching with one hand while he stabilized the wide longboat with his other hand. Between them, they hauled the man up and out of the river.

"Is he breathing?" Jessie asked anxiously.

"Yeah," Jonny reported. "Got a bad gash on the head, though. And he's kind of torn up." Race pulled himself into the boat and grabbed at the med kit while Jonny deftly rolled up the man's sleeves, revealing deep gashes on his arms.

"Hey, Ponchita," Race looked up at his daughter with a sinking feeling. "Give her all she's got. There's better supplies at camp and we can call for help, too."

"Got it."

"Race, is it just me, or does it look like this guy was tied up to you?" Jonny asked, pointing at the deep bruising on the man's wrists.

"Let's not make any assumptions yet," Race deflected the question. But Jonny met his eyes with a knowing look. They both knew what shackles did to flesh, after all.

Race busied himself and Jonny with treating the man's wounds as best they could in the boat and carefully not saying anything about what they might find upriver. Race only tried once to raise Benton and Hadji on the camp radio, and when there was no response he urged Jessie to go even faster. As they rounded the last bend, the little canoe practically flying and two hours ahead of schedule, all three gasped.

What had been a neat little settlement with the supplies tent, two sleeping tents, and the blind all set in a half-circle around the central fire was now a disaster. The tents had been torn open and ripped down, the supplies scattered and broken. The blind was no longer concealed and computer parts were spread across the ground. There was no sign of Benton or Hadji.

Jonny took in a breath to yell, but glanced to Race first. Race correctly interpreted the request to know if he felt it was safe to yell; he nodded once since the noise of the boat had long since given away their position.

"Dad! Hadj!" Jonny called out, his voice echoing across the water.

"Doctor Quest!" Jessie shouted.

"Benton! Hadji! Can you hear me?" Race's voice boomed. "Get us to shore, Jess." He started muttering to himself as he dug around for his emergency pistol just in case. "So much for staying right there, Benton. I _knew_ this would happen."

Before the longboat had even touched the shore Jonny was out, wading knee-deep in the river and racing towards the camp. He didn't waste time staring at the destruction and started by looking at the ground for evidence.

"Lots of boot-prints, Race," he said. "And I see dog tracks, too. Or wolves, but dogs make more sense and I don't think wolves live in Borneo."

"They don't," Jessie reported automatically.

"Check the beacon," Race ordered, splashing ashore and heading for the bright orange med kit that had been opened and left in disarray. "See if it's been activated."

Jonny fumbled for his watch. Though it didn't usually pick up on the signal, it was configured to the same Quest technology and could pull the alert from the system if it had been sent. But Jonny knew the answer even before he'd keyed in the command. If an emergency beacon had been activated already, Race's phone would have shrieked at them, and it hadn't.

Jessie was picking through the computer equipment, seizing the laptop that had been thrown to the ground. An ordinary laptop might not have survived the throw intact, but Quest tech was always a few generations ahead of the curve. Crouching in the dirt, she turned it on to see what she could learn.

"Looks like Doctor Quest responded to something the sonar picked up in the water around 4am local time," she reported. "So they were here twelve hours ago and doing research like nothing was wrong."

"Jess, what's the reading on what the sonar found?" Jonny came to look over her shoulder.

"The shape's really irregular," she said, frowning at the information on the screen. "Definitely living, about four feet under the water, more like eight or nine across the surface."

"It was him holding onto the log," Jonny pointed to the unconscious man. "He must have been floating in the river and set off the alarm."

"Then it stands to reason that however he ended up in the river has something to do with where Benton and Hadji are now," Race nodded. He looked around. There was only one choice he could make and he hated it.

"Dad?" Jessie looked up, feeling his hesitation in the air.

"Pack up the survival gear and any salvageable equipment that might help us," Race ordered curtly as he began dressing the unconscious man's wound and wrapping it expertly. "Spread it out across the two boats. We've got to get back to civilization and get this guy to a hospital. Kapit's a lot closer than Song, and they'll be able to take care of him there."

"We're going to leave dad and Hadji out here?" Jonny stood up and clenched his hands.

"We've got an injured man here, Jonny," Race said more sharply than he really meant. "We've got a responsibility to get him help before we can help anybody else." At the worry and fury on Jonny's face, Race relented. "We can't help your dad and this guy at the same time. We _know_ this man is hurt. We've got to trust Benton and Hadji to take care of each other a little longer. At this point, a few hours won't make enough of a difference for them."

"By the time we get to Kapit and talk to the authorities, it'll be nearly nightfall," Jessie pointed out.

"Then we'll have all night to do some investigating the cyber way and be back out here at dawn," Race said. His own resolve hardened. "I'd tell you both that you're going to stay in Kapit and let me handle this, but you'll just sneak after me anyway. I want you where I can keep an eye on you. But don't worry. We'll find them."

"We always do," Jonny said, his tension not at all lessened but the look of panic starting to fade. "There's not a bad guy in the world that can keep us from getting them back."

"That's the spirit," Race approved. "Now get together anything that you both think we'll need or will help us in the search. You've got twenty minutes before we go back down the river."

While the pair expertly – and with too much experience with crises like this in Race's opinion, but that was another family hazard – picked through the ruined camp and made piles of everything from the laptops and surveillance equipment to the blankets and water canteens, Race looked a little more critically at his patient. The man had gotten a bad blow to the head, it seemed. And Race had to agree with Jonny: the marks on his wrists had definitely come from restraints of some kind. Race fished in the man's pockets for a wallet or some form of identification. They were empty.

But Race realized that the man's clothing wasn't his at all – it couldn't be. It was at least two sizes too big. And while it could just have been a random dark green shirt and pair of pants, Race knew all too well that he was looking at a uniform, and not one from any military he recognized.

He sighed. "Oh Doc, what in the world have you gotten yourself into _this_ time?"


	3. Chapter 3

I'm so excited by the response this story has gotten so far! You guys make this rather scary introduction into the Sentinel fandom somewhat less intimidating.

(By the way, there's a reference in Chapter 2 and here in Chapter 3 that the Quests have been to Borneo before. That specific episode is "Amok" and it has some good points, but nothing that's going to be necessary for this story. Certain episodes, however, will be very relevant – I'll let you know what that happens.)

Enjoy!

* * *

><p>"For what it's worth, I'm really, <em>really<em> sorry," Blair shook his head tiredly. "If I'd known they had dogs I would have gone for the river and then maybe they wouldn't have grabbed you, too."

"We are always where we are meant to be," Hadji returned. "If the path of the river leads you astray, you must trust your feet on the path of the jungle." He paused. "Normally that's just a proverb, but at the moment it is the literal truth, I suppose."

"Can you tell us anything about what's going on?" Doctor Quest asked. "Other than the obvious, of course?"

"The obvious" consisting of the small metal room into which the three had been thrown after being handcuffed with their hands behind them. The dozen men in jungle fatigues and carrying heavy weaponry had marched the three through the jungle for most of the day to reach what looked on the outside like nothing more than a logging camp. But not many logging camps had armed perimeters and so many guns. There were four different trailers in the very center of the complex, all temporary buildings but sturdy nonetheless.

"I can try, but I don't really know for sure," Blair said. "I was here with a friend, Doctor Eli Stoddard, studying one of the local indigenous peoples. A few nights ago, we were making our way to a clear area to see if I could get satellite phone reception to check in back home when these guys just snatched us out of the jungle."

"How inhospitable," Hadji commented coolly. "But then, given the rough treatment, accommodations, and lack of water, I would hypothesize that hospitality is not one of the tenets to which our captors adhere." As he spoke, he deftly rolled his shoulders and hooked his hands behind his feet. In one smooth motion, he curled down and then upwards, bringing his hands up before him.

"Man, you have got to teach me that!" Blair exclaimed.

"Unfortunately, this may be where my helpfulness is at an end," Hadji said. "Picking locks is not my best skill." Nonetheless, he reached up into his turban and withdrew a pair of sharp pins – not pins he needed to keep the material wrapped, but that he stored there for this very eventuality.

"That's really Race's department," Doctor Quest agreed. "Or Jonny's."

"Remind me to take a lesson from them both at the first opportunity." Hadji frowned as he tried to maneuver the pins into the handcuff's lock.

"You know," Blair narrowed his eyes, "you two are awfully relaxed for being kidnapped by armed paramilitary goons for no good reason other than being within spitting distance of me in the middle of the night."

"Quest family hazard," Benton said with a rueful shake of the head.

"Quest?" Blair's eyes widened. "_You're_ Doctor Benton Quest? I knew I'd seen you somewhere before! Oh man!"

"Yes," Benton said quickly, "but let's do what we can to keep that from becoming common knowledge, shall we?"

"We find it goes better when we are underestimated, Mister Sandburg," Hadji explained.

"I hear that," Blair nodded. "And call me Blair."

"My adopted son Hadji," Benton introduced him.

"Can you tell us what these men wanted with you and Doctor Stoddard?" Hadji asked.

"I..." Blair looked away. "I can't."

"It could help us understand what's going on," Benton urged. "We need any advantage we can get here if we're going to have some hope of escaping."

Blair dropped his head and let out a breath. "I know that. But I just...I can't tell you."

Ignoring the looks the Quests were exchanging, Blair felt fear coil through his stomach. He wanted to trust them, he really did. But between these goons asking about Sentinels and Jim probably freaking out (if not already on his way to Borneo), Blair just couldn't risk telling them anything. Jim's safety was worth more than that.

-==OOO==-

"Dammit!" Jim slammed a hand down on the man's desk. "What do you mean I can't get out there?"

"Just what I said," the lone police officer glared at Jim. "I've got enough problems without having to take you out into the jungle on nothing more than your say-so."

"An anthropological expedition has disappeared," Jim said through grit teeth. "You _have_ to investigate it."

"I only have your word for it that there was any such expedition at all," the officer shot back. "They never cleared any plans through this office. For all I know, this is a big hoax like that snake thing."

"Snake thing?" Jim asked before he could help himself.

"We've got a couple of scientists in the area looking into rumors of some giant snake," the man said with a careless wave. "And I've got enough trouble with them right now. They're _actually_ missing and there's an unknown man they brought back from their campsite in the hospital. That's my priority right now. If you want to get up the river, go find a fisherman and see if you can bribe him or something."

The officer had clearly dismissed Jim, but Jim seized onto a more useful piece of information. "Where's the hospital?" he asked.

"Down the road and to the right," he answered, decidedly testy. "Can't miss it."

Jim left without another word, striding down the broad road at a good pace and his thoughts even faster. Scientists missing and Blair too? No chance that was a coincidence, not even outside of the Sandburg Zone. Jim needed to find the people who had reported it and talk to them. They might have seen something, or the guy in the hospital might be connected. It was a lead, anyway.

As he veered to the right, something caught his attention. He extended his hearing.

"The doctor says he's starting to wake up," said a man's voice in English. "They'll let me in to talk to him in a few minutes. I'll see if he knows anything and then we'll finish getting our supplies together."

"It's going to be too late to head out there before sunset tonight," replied a younger voice, also male.

"Dad, do we really have to wait for morning?" asked a young woman, and Jim could hear the worry in her voice.

"No. My gut feeling has gone from bad to worse, Jess. We're going tonight. I've already arranged for a bigger boat and the night-vision binoculars are still in good shape, so there's no reason to wait. We'll find them. I promise."

Jim quickened his pace. He knew that tone of command, of certainty. That was someone who was competent and who knew what he was doing. And going in the same direction Jim wanted to go anyway. It was Jim's best shot.

From the outside, the hospital was more the size of a small clinic, but Jim could smell the antiseptic and the usual supplies. He pushed open the door and took in the scene. A small waiting room held nothing but a few chairs and a desk next to a closed door. The only people present were a broad-shouldered man and two teenagers. With a start, Jim realized he recognized the kids from his flight to Borneo.

The instant he entered the room, the man tensed. Almost too casually, he took a step forward, putting himself between Jim and both the kids as well as the door to the rest of the hospital.

"Something I can do for you?" he asked warily.

Jim decided on the direct approach. "My name is Jim Ellison and I'm with the Cascade PD out of Washington. I'm looking for a friend." He moved slowly to pull out his badge, not missing the way the man watched carefully to see if it was anything other than a wallet he revealed.

"We found somebody in the river today," the girl said, stepping up beside the man she had called her father. "He wasn't hurt too bad."

"Can you describe him?" Jim swallowed against the pounding in his chest.

"Late fifties to early sixties, slightly heavyset, pale brown hair," the man answered.

Jim reached into a back pocket and drew out a picture he'd brought. It was one of the few in Blair's room – most of his roommate's decorations were from other countries, other peoples, not pictures of himself and his own life. But this was a shot of Blair shaking the hand of Doctor Stoddard when he'd been awarded his first Master's for anthropology.

"Yeah, that's him," the boy answered, taking the other side. Jim noted that all three were tense and almost waiting for a fight. "How do you know him?"

"He was traveling with my friend. I lost contact with them a while ago and I came down here to make sure my friend is okay."

The three traded suspicious looks. The stalemate might have gone on except the other door opened and a woman in a doctor's coat emerged.

"He's awake," she said before she noticed the addition of Jim to the room. "Oh. Are you here for the patient?"

"Yes," he said quickly.

"Well, the two of you can come back if you like," she offered. "He's coherent, though he tires quickly. I'll be right outside."

"Stay here," the man said to the kids, flicking them a glance that Jim couldn't quite interpret but both teens did, nodding solemnly. Then he looked at Jim. "Might as well go in together."

Jim bristled at that. He did _not_ want to talk to Eli Stoddard about Blair studying Sentinels in front of a stranger, an aggressive stranger. An aggressive, obviously _military_ stranger. But he also needed that stranger to at least give him a ride. He followed.

Down a short corridor, the doctor opened a door and gestured them into a small room. Doctor Eli Stoddard leaned against thin pillows, his face pale and drawn. His eyes glanced to the two men.

"Are you the people who rescued me?" he asked.

"I found you in the river," the man said carefully. "I was hoping you could tell me what happened." Then, almost like an afterthought, he added, "My name is Race. Race Bannon."

The anthropologist's eyes slid to Jim and he held out the badge again. "I'm Jim, Blair's partner."

It wasn't at all what he had intended to say, but it just came out. He didn't have time to regret the words because at once the man's face gained some color and he attempted to sit up. "Blair! Oh, god, what happened to him?" He turned to Race. "Did you find him?"

"Who's Blair? What were you doing out there?" Race asked instead.

"We were studying...local people," he answered slowly, his eyes flicking to Jim who gave him a tiny nod. "I'm Doctor Eli Stoddard, an anthropologist out of Rainier University and Blair is an old friend and student."

"Then how'd you end up with a bump on your head in the river?" Race got closer.

"Blair's missing," Jim said. "He hasn't been seen."

"And now my people are missing," Race added, and Jim could hear the man's jaw working as he strained against his obvious worry. "Anything you can tell me might help me find them."

"A few days ago, Blair and I finally slipped away from the village long enough to try to make a call," Stoddard's eyes flicked to Jim again. "But he'd only just set his backpack down when we were surrounded by armed men and hunting dogs. They took us into custody and dragged us through the jungle to their base."

"Do you know where that was?" Race asked eagerly. The doctor shook his head.

"No, sorry."

"Keep going," Jim urged.

"They locked us in some kind of office for a while, until –" He stopped.

"Until what?" Race leaned over him.

"A man came asking questions," was the answer, but Jim could hear Stoddard's heart-rate starting to climb. "He was asking Blair about...our research."

And Jim understood. He went perfectly still because it was either that or put his fist through the wall. This wasn't Sandburg stumbling into a drug operation like Simon and Daryl had. This was deliberate, premeditated. Someone had sought his partner out _because_ of the Sentinel thing.

"They talked for a while," Stoddard continued, talking over Race who clearly wanted details on the nature of the research. "He made some kind of vague threat against me unless Blair agreed to help him. I told him not to agree, but you know Blair." He looked at Jim with regret. "He didn't want anything to happen to me. That was the last time I saw him until last night."

"What happened last night?" Jim asked.

"I'd been kept in a small metal room, part of one of the trailers, I think. In the middle of the night, Blair came into my cell. I have no idea how he got out, but he had a change of clothes and a set of keys and he had learned the layout of the whole place. He led me out of the compound past the guards."

Jim let out a long breath. He should have expected some kind of Sandburgian heroics would be involved. For all the kid got himself _into_ scrapes, he had also proved to be just as adept at getting _out_ of them again. But then why hadn't he also escaped?

"As we were crawling out under a broken part of the fence, I slipped down an incline and hit my head on a rock," Stoddard said. "My memory gets a little fuzzy from there. I remember Blair leading me to water and complaining that building a raft would take too long. Then I think he must have tied me to a log with his jacket or something and he told me he would lead them away from me. I held onto the log for as long as I could but everything after that is a blur."

Jim noticed that Race Bannon's heart-rate had increased at something in that description. But Race simply asked, "Do you know by chance how late at night it was that you went into the river?"

"It must have been after midnight," Stoddard furrowed his brow as he thought, "because I heard the guards change their shift just before he appeared at my cell."

"Was there anybody else there that you saw? Any other prisoners?"

"No, I think I was the only one."

He looked like he was about to say something else, but the doctor entered and cleared her throat delicately. "I think that's enough. He really must rest if he is to recover fully."

Jim and Race both grimaced; evidently both men wanted the chance to ask more questions – but not in front of one another.

"Thank you, Doctor Stoddard," Race said instead. "You've been very helpful. As soon as you're feeling well, I've already talked to the local policeman and he'll ensure you're escorted out of here safely."

"Thank you, Mister Bannon. I owe you my life. I am very fortunate to have come upon you in the river instead of those men." Stoddard shifted his gaze. "Detective Ellison, you have to find them. You have to get Blair out of there."

"I will," Jim promised.

Stoddard turned his head and closed his eyes, but Jim realized he was whispering too quietly even for the doctor leaning over him to hear the words.

"They're interested in Sentinels, Detective Ellison. They want Blair alive, but I have no doubt they will be expecting you. And they already know what you are."

-==OOO==-

"Here they come!" Jonny reported, peeking through the door. He looked to where Jessie quickly closed the laptop on her knees. "Did you get it?"

"Yeah, I think so," she answered.

The next moment, Race and the man named Jim appeared. Jonny couldn't help but ask, "Did he see dad?"

"No, Jonny, I'm sorry."

"Dad, what's going on?"

"Nothing good," Jim answered her. "And if you're thinking of going out there on your own, think again. I'm coming with you."

"Shouldn't we wait for the authorities? I'm sure they're better-equipped to handle this," Race asked, and it took considerable self-control for Jessie and Jonny to not snort at the blatant lie. As if Race would _ever_ sit back and wait when any one of their family was in trouble.

Jim folded his arms. "Look, that's my friend Blair he was talking about. I'm not going to sit here and trust his life to a cop who never has to do anything more complicated than give directions. I know what I'm doing and," he deliberately looked Race up and down, "I bet you do, too."

"Give us a few minutes to talk," Race said. Jim shrugged and headed outside.

"Race, that's the guy from the plane," Jonny practically exploded as soon as the door had closed behind the newcomer.

"I guessed," Race said. "Anything from what you saw there that gives you a red flag?"

"Not really," Jonny shrugged.

"What'd you find, Jess?" Race turned to her.

"He's legit, dad," she said, opening the laptop again. "Here's the records you wanted from Cascade."

"Do I want to know how you got them?" he looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Nothing illegal, I promise," she smiled. "And I didn't let Jonny do it either. We don't hack the police."

"Not usually," Race grumbled. "Then where'd you get the file?"

"You're not gonna like this," Jessie sighed. "We got it off the government server."

"Still legit!" Jonny protested before Race could say anything. "Just the personnel files that dad already has access to. Nothing more sensitive than that."

"James J Ellison was an Army Ranger until about eight years ago when he was on a mission that went bad in Peru. There's no details about the mission itself, but the records state that he was honorably discharged. It's confirmed that he went into law enforcement not long after," Jessie said, turning the laptop so Race could see. "From these newspaper clippings, it looks like he's telling the truth that a guy named Blair is his friend. Blair Sandburg is named as his partner, and the picture matches the one he showed us."

"Blair Sandburg?" Race scrunched up his face. "I know that name. Something...Benton was talking about it right before we got down here. Name mean anything to you two?"

"Nope," Jonny shook his head. "But we haven't seen anything but textbooks for the last two months."

"Jess, see what you can find out about the missing guy and anything else you can dig up on Ellison," Race said. "The story checks out so far, but I'm still not sure."

"Is it because he's military?" Jessie asked.

"No," Race shook his head. "That discharge looks real to me and even if it isn't, his partner really is missing. No, I just don't know if I want somebody I don't know if I can trust with us on this one."

"If his friend really is with dad and Hadji," Jonny said, "I'm sure Hadji would remind you that 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend' or something. And whoever took dad and Hadj definitely counts as _my_ enemy."

"That's true, but there's still something fishy going on here. I didn't get the chance to find out what kind of research was so all-fired important to a pair of anthropologists that it got them kidnapped by paramilitary goons. And I have a feeling Detective Ellison has some idea about it. I don't like not knowing the truth."

He sighed and put a hand on his daughter's shoulder. "On the other hand, we need all the help we can get. Maybe I'm just remembering the last time we were in Borneo and we made an unexpected friend who was also shady and military."

"Yeah, but that guy was real bad news," Jonny pointed out. "Detective Ellison looks like a good guy."

"On paper, Jonny," Jessie pointed out. "If Hadji were here, I bet he'd also have a saying about how you don't really know a man until you learn about him from walking in his shoes or something."

"Exactly," Race agreed. "He looks like a good guy. I sure hope he is one. Because we're going to need more than just me and you two this time."

"I wish Hadji were here," Jonny said, suddenly low and sad. "He has a really good intuition about people. He always seems to know who not to trust. He's even better at it than dad."

"True, but he's not psychic," Jessie said softly. "He makes the same mistakes we all do." She met his eyes with a sad look of her own. "But I know what you mean. I want him back, too. And Doctor Quest."

"We'll get them, gang. I promise." Race nodded to himself. "All right. Ellison is in. But you two are going to keep an eye on him, okay? And try not to tell him too much about your dad, Jonny. If he turns out to be less of a good guy, I don't want him thinking he can use Benton against us."

"You got it, Race."

Outside, Jim dialed back his hearing as the door opened. He looked up at Race Bannon, watching the man's natural suspicion war with his need. Honestly, it made Jim feel better. He wished he knew more about these people – and who exactly they were to have that much access to his service record – but their caution gave him some confidence that they were what they seemed to be.

And his desperate need for a ride was enough to overpower his otherwise extreme caution over their ability to so casually access sealed government files.

"Okay, you're in," Race said shortly. "Like I said, I'm Race Bannon. This here is Jonny and my daughter Jessie. It's Jonny's dad and his assistant who are missing – they were upriver studying snakes."

Jim noted a slight jump in Race's heart-rate, but that could just as easily have been anxiety about the missing friends. He nodded.

"Our family has a habit of getting ourselves into trouble," Race continued, "so if our luck is working like it normally does, Benton and Hadji are in the same fix as your friend Blair. If you want in on getting them back, we could use the help. But," and his blue eyes went flinty, "you have to work with us. No cowboy heroics, no going off on your own. Or we leave you here right now."

Jim bristled, but he could understand that. "Agreed. And you don't keep any secrets from me about what you're planning to do." Not that they'd have an easy time of it if they tried.

"Deal." Race held out a hand and Jim accepted it, noting the strength and the almost imperceptible tremor in the grip.

"Meet us down at the docks in an hour," Race said. "Be ready to go. We're heading back up there tonight."

"Works for me."

Jim strode away after a parting nod. He didn't need the time – he'd come in with a full pack already – but he did want some privacy. He'd already learned that this little town boasted a library and a hotel, which meant it also had semi-reliable phone and internet services. It was almost midnight back in Cascade, but he knew Simon would be up. It took half an hour to get a call through.

"Banks," Simon answered shortly.

"Simon. I need you to run a name for me."

"Right now?" He sounded thoroughly awake though cranky. Jim couldn't blame him.

"Yeah. His name's Race Bannon."

Jim waited quietly, extending his hearing while Simon rolled out of bed and got to work at his home computer, listening for the tell-tale crunch from the cracker piece that had been recently dropped into Simon's keyboard and lodged itself under the A key. He could almost hear Blair's voice at his side: "Stay with me, buddy. This is a bad time for a zone, you know." _Yeah, Sandburg_, he thought. _I know_.

"Not a lot I can tell you," Simon said. "Clean record, no red flags. Got a couple of concealed weapons permits out of Maine, but that's about it. It could be an alias, though. Who names their kid 'Race' anyway?"

"The man's military, Simon," Jim said with some consternation. "Can't you get me anything more than that?"

"Not at this hour," Simon snapped. Then, "Sorry, Jim. Look, I'll call around in the morning. It's going to be tough without a real name, though. You going to be somewhere I can reach you?"

"Probably not."

"Jim, do you need backup? The offer's still open."

Jim smiled. Sandburg would light up like a Christmas tree if he knew how seriously the aloof and prickly Captain Banks was about flying halfway around the world for his sake. _Why do we wait until you're not here to tell before we make sure you know we'd come for you_? he found himself wondering. _You better know I'm coming for you, at least_.

"Thanks, Simon. But you'd never get here in time. I'm going into the breach tonight. If you don't hear from me soon, follow up on Race Bannon. He's got somebody missing, too, and there's no way that's a coincidence. And..." Jim took a breath before admitting, "it's definitely something to do with the Sentinel thing. Sandburg could be in real trouble."

"Dammit."

"My sentiments exactly." Jim glanced at his watch. "I've got to go. I'll contact you again when I can."

"You better, detective," Simon growled. "If I have to drag your ass out of another jungle, you'll be on traffic duty for a month! Do you hear me?"

"Loud and clear, sir." And he did. Jim heard all the worry and loyalty and affection they never said any other way.

"And for God's sake," Simon said irritably, "the next time anybody decides to go anywhere near a jungle, shoot them." Then, more quietly. "Take care of those senses, Jim. And take care of yourself. Watch your back out there."

"I will, Simon. Thanks."

Jim hung up and started to make his way towards the docks, thinking. Watching his own back wasn't too hard given the Sentinel advantages. He just hoped Blair was remembering to watch _his_ until Jim was there to do it for him again.


	4. Chapter 4

Some truths – and some new troubles – get added to the mix.

Also, thank all that's good and holy for the internet. How did people write before they could do research via Wikipedia? Yes, I am old enough to have lived in libraries and learned to use card catalogs and all the rest, but still...

Enjoy!

* * *

><p>A footstep outside was the only warning before the sound of a key in the lock to the door echoed loudly in the dark room. Hadji swiftly gave up his failed lock-picking and slipped the straight pins back into the folds of his turban. A moment later, all three men blinked at the sudden light from the hallway.<p>

"All of them," said a gruff voice, and the three were each yanked to their feet by a guard. Blair twisted in the grip that held him. "If that one tries to escape again, shoot him in the foot," the leader of the guards said sharply.

"All right," Blair went limp in the grip that held him. "No shooting. But ease up, will you?"

"Our new friend reminds me of someone," Doctor Quest said softly to Hadji, whose eyes met his with a wry amusement.

"More than one someones, I believe," he replied.

"No talking!" One of the guards cuffed Hadji sharply. He hissed in surprise but made no aggressive move. Doctor Quest clenched his jaw but knew objecting would only make it worse for them both.

The three were dragged by their armed guards through a narrow hallway into an open quadrangle bordered on each side by a metal trailer. A doorway on the other side was standing open.

"It's so nice to see you again, Mister Sandburg," commented a cold voice.

"Yeah, because _last_ time was so much fun," Blair rolled his eyes as he was shoved into a chair.

Benton took in the room in a glance. It was a strange mix of what he would have called a war-room, complete with maps and a weapons rack, but there were piles of books and papers, too; if a war-room could have been merged with a messy scholarly archive, it might look like this. There were three doors, one from which they had entered and one each on the walls to the left and right. Guards were posted at each, and the three guards who had escorted them stood behind the chairs in which they were made to sit. No real opportunity to escape yet, then.

He turned his attention to the man who was clearly in charge. Benton cataloged the immediately obvious traits – short-cropped black hair, dark eyes, medium build, tanned skin. But he held himself with the same casual rigidity that Race did, and the lines of the crew cut were familiar, too. He wore the same dark green uniform as everyone else with no particular insignia, but Benton wouldn't expect one. This wasn't an official force.

"You're a mercenary," Benton said.

"I prefer to think of it as a specialized form of private security. Security is big money these days, you know. And the more specialized the need, the more they pay." The smile was almost genial, neither predatory nor mocking.

"Is that all this is worth to you? Money?" Blair wrinkled his nose.

"I like to think so. Of course, there's the thrill of adventure as well. You'd _all_ know something about that, wouldn't you?"

Benton kept his face neutral.

"Oh, I know who you are, Doctor Benton Quest. If you want to remain anonymous, you ought to avoid being on the cover of quite so many magazines. Though I don't believe we've had the pleasure," he leaned close to Hadji.

Benton longed to shove the man away from his adopted son but quelled the instinct. He couldn't let himself be bested in this dangerous game at all, and certainly not in the opening rounds.

"My name is Hadji Singh," he spoke up calmly, and Benton silently blessed Hadji for leaving out the rest of his name. "I am a research assistant to Doctor Quest."

"Wrong place, wrong time," the man shook his head. "Well, we do a lot of _research_ around here, so perhaps you'll still have your chance to be helpful."

"I look forward to it, sir." The words were polite, but the tone was subtly accusing.

"If I had known the great Doctor Quest would have been joining us, I might have arranged for better accommodations. As it stands, I can't spare a great deal of space for you. However," his eyes narrowed, "your reputation precedes you. Too many times others have underestimated your legendary resourcefulness. Believe me right now that I will not make the same mistake. And if you take my resolve for granted, you _will_ regret it."

"What do you want here?" Benton asked sharply. He could see Blair Sandburg cringing and mentally tallied the situation. Blair could not be older than thirty, which made Benton want to take a position as leader and primary antagonist to their captors to deflect attention from the younger two. However, he was also the unwelcome guest and dared not give their captors reason to decide he was too much trouble to keep alive. Blair had proven spirited enough to talk back, but Benton wondered how much he really knew about the danger they were in.

"All that time to get acquainted and you didn't mention it?" the man raised an eyebrow at Blair. "No matter. You, Doctor Quest, are not really a part of this. I can't just let you go, obviously, but I'm sure I can find a way to turn a profit from your unexpected presence." He moved to lean on the desk. "No, all I really require is the presence of Mister Sandburg."

"You're _insane_ if you think I'm going to help you!" Blair exploded. "No way, man!"

"You're smarter than this," he sneered. "Do I have to make it explicit? Again?"

A lightning-quick glance passed between Benton and Hadji but they held still.

"Yes." Blair raised his chin defiantly.

"You will do what you are told," the man said, almost bored, "or it'll come out of the flesh of one of your new friends. I've heard about your sympathy for victims of crime, Sandburg. Do you have less for these two?"

Blair closed his eyes. Of _course_ he knew this would happen. There was no other real possibility. It wasn't like the guy hadn't used Doctor Stoddard against Blair before. But he couldn't allow himself to agree without that threat. He needed it to be clear to himself and the Quests that he was only acting because he had no choice.

"Blair," Doctor Quest spoke softly. "You do not have to do this, whatever it is. Not for us."

"Sure I do," he grinned recklessly and without any humor in it at all. "The only way my academic standing will get any lower is if I let anything happen to the great Doctor Quest. Can't have that." He turned to their captor with a stony expression. "You got me. I'll do whatever you ask. But I'm going to need help. Doctor Quest and Hadji can work with me. And then I'll know you aren't going back on our deal."

"You can have the boy," the mercenary offered. "Doctor Quest is worth too much to let loose in my compound."

"Doctor Quest?" Hadji asked. He didn't verbalize the rest of his question, but his adopted father heard it anyway.

"It's all right, Hadji. I'll be fine."

"He better be," Blair muttered.

"It's getting late tonight for you to return to your work," the man smiled almost kindly. "I'll make sure the three of you get something to eat. But be ready to move before first light. You will not be idle much longer, Blair Sandburg and Hadji Singh. I promise you that."

-==OOO==-

"So what's the plan?" Jim found himself asking.

Race raised an eyebrow at him but actually tipped his head to Jonny and Jessie who were huddled over a laptop. They had traded in the pair of longboats for a flat barge-like boat that sat high in the water and could be moved either with the high-class motor or by rowing and poling. Their supplies were carefully packed in several water-tight boxes. Jim was more than a little impressed not just with the preparation but with the quality of the supplies. Cascade PD couldn't have gotten anything like this without killing the year's budget. He wondered what had made Race bring such a boat along, and if he had been expecting to need it.

"Race said that Doctor Stoddard went into the water around midnight," Jessie said. "We're running simulations of the river's current and speed to see if we can backtrack where we found him to the approximate place he started from."

"You can do that?" Jim was surprised.

Jonny looked up at him and frowned sharply. "Of _course_ we can."

"Knock off the attitude, Jonny," Race said mildly. "He's not used to kids smarter than most adults."

"The only problem is we don't know which tributary we should be looking at," Jessie said. "The Baleh River is only one of a bunch of different ones that feed into the Rajang River. If we can't narrow it down, we'll have to search all of them."

"Not necessarily," Race said. "Doctor Stoddard mentioned something that might help. He said Blair tied him to the log using his jacket."

"But there wasn't a jacket on him when we found him," Jonny said. Then his eyes brightened. "You think it came off at some point."

"It's a long-shot," Race nodded, "but it's better than nothing."

"I might be able to help," Jim offered carefully. At three curious glances, he deliberately relaxed his body, suddenly grateful for Sandburg's many lectures on the impact of body-language on perception. If he didn't look tense, they might overlook their mistrust a little.

"How?" Jessie asked.

"You know how cops get hunches, right?" he asked, deciding the "I'm a psychic" they'd pulled on Megan Connor was not his best bet.

"Sure," Jonny shrugged. "Dad says it's a combination of natural intuition plus processing sensory information differently or subconsciously. He's done a few studies of it."

"Yeah, something like that," Jim accepted the answer readily. "Whatever it is, I'm good at it. When we get to a place where we have to decide, maybe I'll get a hunch."

"I'd rather go on more than your gut, if you don't mind." Race's voice was icy. "Especially since we don't really know anything about you. You could be one of the guys who took Stoddard in the first place for all we know."

"Hey, that's my partner out there!" Jim scowled.

"Yeah, and you still haven't given us a good reason _why_ he's out here," Race shot back. Jessie and Jonny exchanged looks. Jonny eased his way back to the motor and Jessie took over the laptop completely, leaving Race free to stand and face Jim fully.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Let's get one thing straight here, _detective_," Race's face was dark with anger. "I'm all for helping somebody who's in trouble. Heck, we've practically made a career out of it. But the numbers don't add up and I don't like it."

Jim felt with a keen lance the lack of Blair at his side – this was exactly the kind of posturing he usually interrupted with a defusing joke and a reasonable word. Jim was a fighter; it was Blair who kept the peace. Instead, Jim's anger rose to meet Race's.

"I'm not the only one keeping secrets," Jim accused. "I don't care if you trust me or not. If I say they're that way," he pointed vaguely, "either you believe me and follow or drop me off and go wherever you want. I only really need the ride. I can get Blair out without your help."

"And leave Benton and Hadji behind?" Race growled. "How heroic."

"How do I know _they're_ not the ones behind this in the first place?" Jim grit out. He actually did know from listening to them talk at the hospital, but he was angry enough not to care.

"They're not!" Jonny shouted, suddenly standing up, his eyes flashing. "My dad is a scientist, not a kidnapper!"

Jessie dove for the motor Jonny had abandoned in his rage, keeping them more or less on course. But that didn't prevent her from looking at Jim with a suppressed ire of her own. "Whoever is behind this took your friend and you won't tell us why. Now our friends are missing, too. If it's anybody's fault, maybe it's yours!"

Her words hit so close to the truth they struck Jim like a physical blow. Blair was in danger – _again_ – because of the Sentinel thing. Jessie was more right than she could have imagined.

"All right. That's enough," Race snapped. He let out a long, deliberate breath. "What we do know is that your friend Blair is connected to this somehow. We know they wanted him, not Stoddard. The doc told us as much. With Benton and Hadji, they were probably just caught up in it without meaning any harm. Or maybe they witnessed something – we did have a lot of observational tech out there." He levied a glare at Jim. "So that makes this a lot more in your court than ours. However, your story checks out okay, and _my_ gut says you aren't part of whoever is behind this."

Jim lowered his chin once signaling a certain amount of agreement.

"But we're not on your turf, detective. This isn't Cascade. Jonny and Jessie and me – this isn't our first rodeo like this."

"It's not mine, either," Jim said firmly. He knew Race had seen at least part of his service record, even if Race didn't know he knew, but that won a nod anyway.

"We are going to have to work together if we're going to get anywhere. All of us," Race glared at the teens too. "No more laying blame. Unless somebody in this boat hired these guys for a kidnapping spree, which I really doubt, we're on the same side."

"And I need you to trust me," Jim said again. "Or let me off when it happens. I don't care which."

Race stared at Jim for a long moment. Then he looked to Jonny.

"What would your dad say, kid?"

"He'd say we only have so much to go on," Jonny answered slowly, "and any lead might be the right one. Dad gets hunches, too."

"Don't I know it?" Race shook his head, a small smile fighting the strong lines of his face. "All right." He met Jim's eyes. "But when we get our people back, I want a real answer to what's going on here."

"When we get Blair back, I'll let him tell you whatever you want to hear," Jim answered. He thought his partner would have been proud of that bit of obfuscation.

-==OOO==-

Back in their cell, Benton and Blair were re-handcuffed in front. While the guards remained posted, one holding a gun pointed ominously towards Hadji to dissuade any thoughts of rebellion, another soldier appeared with some basic rations. In moments, the three were alone in the dim cell once more.

"Oh, man," Blair ran his hands through his wild curls. "I'm so sorry, Doctor Quest. I never meant for any of this –"

"Recrimination will not help us now," Hadji said firmly. "The past is gone and now is a new moment. We cannot waste time on what could have been. We must focus on the path at our feet before it begins to move without us and we lose our way." He poked at the foods they had been offered, dividing the wrapped, military-type rations into thirds and passing them out.

"Hadji's right," Benton said. "So let's all work together here." He took a breath. "Blair, does all of this have anything to do with your dissertation?"

"My...what?" Blair asked weakly.

Benton held up his cuffed hands in a quelling motion. "Almost nothing happens in academics without me hearing about it, Blair. It didn't hit the national circles until about a month ago, but I am well aware of who you are and the study that resulted in a media circus."

"So you know I'm a fraud." If possible, Blair shrank even more, his shoulders curling in with defeat.

"No. I know for certain that you are no such thing."

Blair's head shot up so fast he almost banged it on the wall behind him. "What?"

"After hearing about your public statement, I took the liberty of familiarizing myself with your work to date, including the unreleased, full copy of the dissertation draft," Benton said levelly. "It made for good reading on the way down here for the both of us. And now that I have met you, I feel quite certain that the show you put on at the press conference was just that – a show. Wouldn't you say so, Hadji?"

"Yes, Doctor Quest," the Indian smiled warmly across the room at Blair. "Your academics are unsurpassed in their rigor and presentation, and it is apparent to me that you are an honest and determined individual. I believe only something more important to you than your studies could have driven you to sacrifice your career and the many riches that awaited you. And as money clearly does not motivate you, your choice to discredit yourself could only have come from your heart."

"I...you knew all along?" Blair asked, swallowing thickly.

"From the moment I saw you in the jungle, yes," Doctor Quest confirmed. "Which is why we trusted you."

"I did not recognize you as quickly, but I can recognize your spirit. A man who throws away millions of dollars and a Nobel Prize for the sake of a friend is a man I will not doubt even in the darkness of uncertainty," Hadji added.

Blair felt his face grow hot under their identical knowing, approving smiles. Three weeks in Cascade of being sneered at in the street had been healed somewhat by a month in a country that didn't know him from any other American, but the open and fully cognizant reception from one of the foremost scientists of any discipline in the world was almost too much. They had read everything, probably from his undergrad research through the dissertation itself, and they understood.

"Do I even want to know how you got your hands on my research?" he asked with a suddenly dry throat.

"No, probably not," Hadji said. He shrugged. "As with most such things, it is often easier not to ask. Particularly when it comes to sensitive information."

"What you have endured is something I have done myself a time or two, if not so dramatically," Benton said softly. "There are some files we seal not because they would not be of academic interest, but because they would be of too much interest for the wrong reasons. A scientist must keep his mind rational and objective, but a man who is a scientist can never forget that his work has applications and consequences after he walks away."

"Man, you are preaching to the choir here," Blair managed finally. "But then you know my friend Jim..."

"May we assume that Jim is a full Sentinel as you wrote?" Hadji asked.

Blair nodded. "Yes. And he's probably on his way here now. I didn't call him on time to check in. He won't just wait around."

"Good," Doctor Quest nodded. "We've got friends out there, too. Between them, I think we stand a very good chance of being rescued. Assuming we cannot free ourselves first, of course."

"Not going to happen any time soon," Blair looked meaningfully at the thick door.

"Then perhaps we can focus on the 'why' of our situation and work on the 'how' later," Hadji suggested. "Am I correct in assuming that your presence here has something to do with your research into Sentinels?"

"Yeah," Blair said heavily. "_Sunshine_ out there is demanding that I teach him everything I know about them, from what they can do to how to disrupt their senses and shut them down. And," he licked his lips nervously, "he knows way too much about Sentinels to be getting this just from my stuff. I think he's talking about more than hypotheticals here."

"But to what purpose?" Benton wanted to know. "There just aren't that many Sentinels in the world – you wrote it yourself that you only ever found one good subject."

"Sure, but there are lots of people with one or two enhanced senses. They'll be thrown off just the same."

"So we have one mercenary, whom you have dubbed 'Sunshine,'" Hadji smiled a little wryly, "and what seems to be a fairly large contingent of loyal soldiers, all here to gain knowledge of Sentinels from you? That's an extensive operation for some relatively obscure knowledge that has been recently debunked in the public media."

"Which is what worries me," Blair nodded. "I've seen terrorist outfits before. This one is probably the best organized of them. Almost military good, if you know what I mean."

"I do. Organization like this implies resources," Benton said. "We must be very careful. Until we know who is behind Sunshine's financing and motives, we are at a disadvantage. Our first priority must be staying alive and unharmed. Our second is escape."

"And our third is keeping as much about Sentinels away from those people as possible," Blair said firmly. "And if it comes down to it, I'd rather die than betray Jim."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that, then," Hadji said quietly.

-==OOO==-

It was deep into the night when Jim's hearing, which he'd dialed up almost as much as he could stand without zoning, twigged to something out of the ordinary. He rose to stand up on the flat deck of the boat to listen more closely.

"There's...something," he said softly. "Something ahead and to the right."

"The map says there's a tributary up there," Jonny said, flicking on a tiny pen-light.

"Look!"

At Jessie's cry, Race swept his flashlight in the direction she pointed. Where another river flowed into theirs, caught in the roots at the edge of the water was what could only be a green jacket.

"Well, I'll be," Race felt a warm sort of anticipation in his stomach. "Looks like your hunch checks out," he glanced to Jim. The pale starlight was just enough for him to make out a tiny smile on the detective's face. "Let's go."

-==OOO==-

A banging woke the three from the light daze they had fallen into, the small metal room not being exactly conducive to comfortable sleeping. A moment later, the door opened abruptly.

"Looks like you've got one more for a little while," the guard taunted. He flung a bound form in and shut the door again.

Blair, Hadji, and Benton all moved quickly to the person curled on the floor. It was Blair who touched the bare arm and recoiled as if burned. "You're..."

"I try to save you," coughed a voice Blair had come to know a little. "It seems I fail."

"Jaga?" Blair asked. "How...? Why...?"

"More importantly," Doctor Quest interrupted. "Are you hurt anywhere?"

"No," the man sat up. There was a dim light from the crack around the door that illuminated him. He looked not much older than Hadji himself. He was dressed in the manner of the indigenous people of the area, wearing long, sturdy trousers so threadbare and stained as to be almost indistinguishable from the mud. He was bare-chested, his skin streaked with the debris of the forest floor and still wet in patches. His long, dark hair was tied back with a woven thong. His face was round but his nose was sharp like a hawk's, giving him a strong, focused air that was reinforced by his even, stoic expression.

"This is Jaga," Blair said. "He was the person I came here to meet for my research. He learned English from the missionaries, but he lives with the local peoples upriver."

"So Jaga is a Sentinel," Hadji concluded. "Then, if I may ask, sir, how did they catch you?"

"I am still without Nyineng. When I followed sound into darkness, there was none to pull me back." Jaga leaned on Hadji as he pulled himself to a sitting position.

"Nyineng?" Doctor Quest repeated the word.

"I never got all the details," Blair put in, "but as near as I can figure, he means a partner like what I do for Jim. Somebody to talk him through a zone-out and bring him back."

"No, Sang Kancil," Jaga shook his head. "You still fail to understand the Nyineng."

"All the same, why did you come here?" Doctor Quest asked. "How did you even find us?"

"I am Sentinel," Jaga answered. "When Sang Kancil taken from us, I follow. The blackness makes for slow journey, but the spirits always return me in time."

"Jaga," Blair said, dropping his tone to the same one he used when running Jim through a test. It was lower and more even, like what someone leading a guided meditation or hypnosis session might use. "What can you hear now? I will bring you back from the black if you listen to me."

"The man whose voice is firmest gives orders," Jaga said after a moment of quiet. "He says no point in waiting now. Time to signal for transport."

"They're going to move us," Doctor Quest said.

"They waiting for me," Jaga added. "Or maybe one like me. But with me, no reason to wait."

"Oh, man," Blair huffed. "They wanted Jim. They wanted a full Sentinel."

"And now they have one," Doctor Quest added lowly.

"Do not fear, Sang Kancil," Jaga said. "He will come. He will not leave his Nyineng with these men."

"No, see, that's _exactly_ what I'm worried about," Blair scrubbed at his face.

-==OOO==-

The noise reached Jim far too soon for him to be able to do anything about it. He waited, gritting his teeth against the knowledge until at last he broke down. "I hear helicopters."

"Where?" Race asked, immediately switching off his flashlight.

"I don't hear anything," Jessie shook her head.

"Trust me," Jim said firmly. "Two of them, way up there," he pointed forward. "We've got to hurry."

Race looked at him for a long moment before he moved to the stern of the boat. "Everybody hang on." And he cranked the motor to its full speed.

As the craft skipped over the waves, Jonny stood up and moved to Jim's side. "You can really hear that far?"

"Sometimes."

"Helicopters means they're moving out, doesn't it?"

"Yes."

"And what will they do with my dad and Hadji when they do?"

"If we're lucky," Jim said honestly, "they won't get away before we get there."

"And if they do?"

"Jonny, is your dad important?" Jim asked bluntly.

"I think it's okay if you want to trust him, kid," Race offered from behind them.

"Yeah," Jonny let out a long breath. "My dad is Doctor Benton Quest. And Hadji's really my brother."

"The name doesn't mean anything to me," Jim shrugged, "but I take it it should?"

"We'll give you the whole scoop later," Jessie answered. "But he's a big deal to a lot of important people, yes."

"Then the next best case is that they take them with them." Jim looked at the kid, dialing up his eyesight so he could read his expression more clearly. Jonny couldn't be more than eighteen years old, but his face held courage and realism well beyond his years. Jim had seen that look on experienced soldiers after two tours, not fresh recruits.

Race spoke up. "If they know Benton is worth the risk of having him, they're not going to hurt him, Jonny."

"What if they don't? And what about Hadji?"

"We'll jump off that bridge when we get there," Race answered.

They rounded a bend in the river and the sudden light after the darkness made everybody flinch, particularly Jim as he rapidly dialed down his vision. But because of that control, he was quickly able to peer through the swimming lights. Two enormous helicopters were right near the water's edge where a big area had been cleared for them under the pretense of a lumber yard. Telescoping his vision even farther, he could see four figures being shoved into one of them. The first was a local tribesman. The next was a man with Jonny's same nose and jawline. After that was a dark-skinned young man wearing a turban. The last was Blair.

"Hurry!" Jim shouted. "They're already getting ready to take off!"

"We're too late!" Race replied sharply. He turned the boat just before a sweeping searchlight hit them, and Jim didn't need Sentinel senses to know that gunfire was imminent.

"We've got to do something!" Jonny yelled. "They're taking dad and Hadji away!"

They all flattened out at the hail of bullets that ripped through the night. A sound under all that seemed to poke through the noise to Jim's ears and he focused on it.

"What is it?" Blair was asking.

"Sounds like Race," a man's voice said. "But unless he brought an army, I think we're out of luck for a rescue tonight."

"Jim, if you can hear me," Blair pitched his words a bit louder and Jim latched onto that familiar voice like a lifeline. "Stay away. They want Sentinels. Please stay away."

"He can hear you even through all this?" asked an accented younger voice.

"It's possible. I hope so." Blair sounded so disheartened it twisted in Jim's gut.

"If that's the case, if you are listening, Detective Ellison, please tell Race to back off. There will be another opportunity to free us. We are not in immediate danger. He knows how to find us, and we'll get our own chances, too. And goes double if he's got Jonny and Jessie with him." The firm calm in the man's voice reassured Jim.

"Jim, you can trust Race Bannon. Doctor Quest already knows about you. Trust them. Let them help you. Don't," Blair's voice broke off for a moment and Jim could almost feel the fear he was biting back, "don't give up but don't get hurt. Okay?"

The words cut off as the enormous helicopter launched into the sky.

"We've got to move fast!" Jonny was shouting. "They're already taking off!"

"But there's no way we can catch up now!" Jessie protested.

"Maybe we can find out who they are if we can get to whatever they leave behind, then!" Jonny pointed out.

"There's another way," Jim found himself saying, his own voice rock-solid and steady. He extended his vision fully. "Those are MI-26 choppers, and their markings are from Brunei. There aren't many like that. We can track them that way."

"Better than getting ventilated," Race nodded. "We'll hide out of sight until they leave and see what we can find." He backed off with the boat until they were well out of range of the shooting. Turning off the motor, all four silently poled it into the deep shadows of some overhanging trees while in the distance the second helicopter followed the first and the compound fell silent. Still, Race, Jessie, and Jonny couldn't help but stare after the first helicopter long past when any of them could have seen it.

Jim's sense of smell twigged. "Get down!" he roared. All four dove to flatten themselves on the deck, Race tucking each of the kids against him and covering their heads.

A moment later, the false lumber yard exploded.

"Thanks for the warning," Jessie said.

"Dad and Hadji?" Jonny asked worriedly.

"No, they were on-board the first helicopter, so they're fine," Jim assured him firmly. "Those guys were just shooting at us to cover their escape. And from the looks of things, that whole area's going to burn for hours. We won't get anything out of it now."

"So much for that lead, then." Turning back down the river, Race got the boat moving fast again. "I'll call ahead and have that pilot ready to get us from Song to Kuching. It's four or five hours for a chopper that size to get from here to Brunei. And I think I can get us a ride from Kapit to Song if I call in a favor. We won't be too far behind them."

"Detective Ellison," Jessie spoke quietly, "how did you know what kind of helicopter that was? And how could you tell they were from Brunei?"

_Sandburg_, Jim thought with a rush of anger and fear and something else he didn't care to identify right that moment, _you better be right about these people_. _You just better be righ_t.


	5. Chapter 5

Jessie Bannon is my beta's favorite character from JQ:TRA. My beta is also slightly autistic. Thus, she, I, and therefore Jessie have a particular take on the way The Sentinel ended. Unbeknownst to either of us, some of that perspective would circle back in a later story in this series, in a big way.

Enjoy!

* * *

><p>Blair gripped the harness into which he had been strapped, feeling his stomach sway at the rapid upward motion. Three years following Jim on wild chases and he <em>still<em> hated helicopters. Across from him, Jaga looked ten times worse than Blair felt, his face a mask of pain.

"Jaga," Blair said as loudly as he could against the rotor noise without actually yelling. One eye cracked open to show Blair had been heard. "Dial down your hearing and touch." Then, realizing that even a man who spoke English well but had been raised in an entirely different culture might not immediately identify with the phrase "dial it down," he switched tactics. "Focus your hearing until you only hear my voice. Let all other sounds fall away into nothing. Focus your sense of touch until you are only aware of – "

He broke off, not wanting to ask Jaga to focus on handcuffs and coming up blank for any better alternative, but to his surprise, Hadji squirmed in his seat until he could get his arms out enough in spite of the harness and cuffs and rested one hand on the warrior's elbow. He looked at Blair with a questioning glance and Blair smiled gratefully.

"Focus your sense of touch until you are only aware of Hadji's hand on your arm. Keep your eyes closed and shut out taste and smell for now. Let there be nothing but my voice for sound and Hadji's hand for touch. Focus on those." The harsh lines of Jaga's face began to even out. Blair kept repeating himself and adding soothing words in a long litany until the Sentinel was at ease.

Jaga nodded once as if to indicate he no longer needed the help, and Blair let himself fall silent, tipping his head back against the side of the helicopter in an exhaustion that had nothing to do with lack of sleep. He hoped Jim had been out there to hear him. He hoped Jim was okay. He hoped he was right to tell Jim to trust Race Bannon and the other two Benton had talked about. He hoped he hadn't just made everything worse for his best friend.

Blair had been in a situation something like this many times before. It was why Captain Banks accused him of having a "Sandburg Zone" – if somebody was going to take a bus or an elevator or a building hostage, he was virtually guaranteed to be inside it. If a gangster or serial killer or terrorist needed a human shield or a new victim, Blair would be the first person they reached for. He'd lost track of how many times he'd been locked up, tied up, or held at gunpoint. And most of the time it wasn't even his fault!

But this time was so much worse than most of the others. This wasn't some random goon with a gun at a warehouse in Cascade while Jim was there to put a serious dent in their drug smuggling. This wasn't even Kincaid and his Sunrise Patriots who were admittedly crazy but didn't care too much about Blair either way. Most of those other times it hadn't really been personal, hadn't been about him. Lee Brackett – that had been personal. Alex Barnes – that had been too personal and Blair suppressed a shiver. And still this was so much worse.

Armed mercenaries. Knowledge of Sentinels. Hostages to enforce compliance on Blair's part. All to use and corrupt and take advantage of the subject that had been Blair's life and obsession for years. Blair wondered if this was how the first blacksmith to discover steel had felt when it was turned away from benefiting people's lives to making weapons instead. Every word Blair had ever written about Sentinels was about to be used against them. And he didn't even know why!

There was a sharp bump on his knee and Blair opened his eyes. Doctor Quest, to his right, met his eyes firmly and then tipped his head forward. Blair followed the gesture to where Hadji was looking intently at him. To Blair's surprise, Hadji smiled serenely and began mouthing words as his eyes slid closed. The chopper was too loud for him to hear his voice, but after a moment Blair recognize the cadence from one of the yoga practices he'd studied with his mother years ago. If he recalled correctly, the words were based on an ancient prayer for wisdom in a storm and a reminder that when one is caught in the rain it is a sign that one needed the cleansing.

Blair started reciting the words himself, their familiar sounds bringing him out of his head and into the moment. Hadji was right. Blair had to focus on what he could do now with where he was, not worry about what had been or what he had brought down upon others. His choices were still his. And the Quests seemed to believe in him. If someone had told Blair a week prior that Doctor Benton Quest would be trusting _him_ to know the answers, he might have laughed in their face. But now that he had that trust, Blair was going to deserve it. Jim had trusted him and even if he wasn't perfect Blair had made a damn good partner. He would do no less this time.

The helicopter fell away and Blair let his mind rest while the chant carried him to tranquility.

-==OOO==-

"I hate this part," Jonny grumbled.

Jim snorted. He could sympathize. They had gotten to the extremely advanced private jet – which went a long way towards making Jim understand how important Jonny's father really was if the sheer technology of the plane was anything to go by – but they couldn't fly into Brunei until clearing all the official channels. Race, in the pilot's seat, was negotiating strenuously with whoever was in charge of these discussions, but from the steady increase in his heart-rate and the growing flush of his skin, it was not going well.

A prickle along his spine made Jim turn. Jessie Bannon's eyes were fixed on him, the bright green gaze focused and intent. Jim was no stranger to looks from women, or underage girls for that matter, but there was nothing in Jessie's attention that resembled romance. In fact, she looked angry. For that matter, she had looked angry – when she had looked in his direction at all rather than staring at her laptop – since the boat ride on the river after the encounter with the helicopters.

"What?" he almost snapped at her. "Something on my face?"

"When were you going to tell us?" she shot back.

"Tell us what, Jess?" Jonny asked.

"I did a search for his friend Blair Sandburg in the Quest files while we were on the boat. About a month ago, Doctor Quest downloaded a lot of information on him." She gestured to the screen in front of her. Instead of the laptop, this time she was working off one of the computer terminals built into the Dragonfly. Jim had watched her log in to what appeared to be a proprietary network, and the graphics were like nothing he'd seen outside of a science fiction movie.

"Yeah? What'd you find?" Jonny leaned over.

"Hang on and strap in," Race said from the front. "We're on our way."

In minutes, the private jet was racing down the runway. Jim closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. God he hated flying now. It made it much harder to control his senses. There was just so much noise, so much vibration, plus the change in the air from the pressurized cabin and the ever-present desire when looking out a window to really _see_ the ground. But the Dragonfly was smoother than any commercial plane Jim had ever been on. He kept waiting for the low trembling that he could feel in every bolt and panel of the craft the way he usually could…

_Faugh_!

"What the hell?" Jim recoiled instinctively from the sharp smell impaling his nose. Then he blinked, seeing Jessie's face right before him.

"I told you," she said, looking over his shoulder. "It's not a seizure. It was a sensory overload. It's all in the diss."

"Looked like a seizure to me," Race said, and now Jim realized the man was behind him, holding a med kit.

"No, Jess is right," Jonny had moved to the seat Jessie had vacated and was looking at the screen intently. "There's a whole section here about how if a Sentinel focuses on one sense too much it's like his brain shuts down because it can't take in all the input. Like a website suffering a DDOS attack. The recommendation is to stimulate a different sense to pull him out of it."

"Where did you get that information?" Jim demanded, _almost_ shoving at Jessie who was still leaning over him, but while Jim had no issue punching women who were threats, he distinctly drew the line at teenage girls. Even if they were holding a bottle of strong smelling salts.

"You must have zoned during takeoff," Jessie answered, leaning back but not moving from her spot. "I thought you were being awfully quiet when I accused you of lying to us."

"Lying by omission, Jess," Race said, re-stowing the med kit and returning to take the Dragonfly off autopilot. "Trust me, there's a difference. I know you don't like it either way, but a man like him, and like me, for that matter, we live off them."

"Jess found Blair Sandburg's dissertation on the Quest servers," Jonny looked over to Jim. "That's what she was reading the whole way back on the boat."

"You read the entire dissertation in a couple of hours?" Jim stared at her. Jessie smiled smugly.

"I'm a fast reader."

"But you know Blair recanted all of it," Jim said carefully. "There was a whole press conference and…"

"Well, that's what I was saying," Jonny stood. "But then you didn't answer when we were talking to you. So…that's pretty conclusive that your friend was telling the truth about you, isn't it?"

"Why didn't you tell us?" Jessie glared at him anew. "If we had known about your enhanced senses, we could have used them! Instead of stumbling around on the river we could have gone straight to the right spot and maybe we wouldn't have to follow those helicopters at all!"

"Also," Race said from up front, and his tone was altogether too casual, "if you had zoned out or whatever you just did while we were out there, we wouldn't have known how to help you. You don't take a guy with a fear of heights skydiving unless you've got a good backup plan."

"First of all," Jim crossed his arms and glared at Jessie because Race's head was turned away, "I don't know what you think you read, but my senses are not unlimited. I couldn't have found them from that town."

"How soon before us did you know about the helicopters?" Jonny asked shrewdly.

"Not long enough for it to matter, kid."

"We trusted you to help us get our friends back and you held out on us," Jessie put her hands on her hips.

"Like how you're holding out on me?" Jim shot back. When Jessie's face crinkled in confusion, he pressed his advantage. "You didn't want to tell me who we were looking for. Turns out it wouldn't have meant anything to me, but you kept that secret. And you checked up on me. You even got parts of my service record." He frowned darkly. "How do I know you're not some government agents and this whole thing is a setup?"

"Aren't we a little young to be agents?" Jonny asked with a smirk.

"No." Jim shook his head. "I wish I didn't think so, but I know better. So does he," he gestured at Race.

"You checked up on me?" Race asked.

"I tried," Jim admitted. "Couldn't find anything under 'Race Bannon' and didn't have another name to check."

"Even if you'd been searching for my real name, you wouldn't have found much. My record's been sealed for years."

"So was mine," Jim pointed out.

"Doctor Quest does some work for the government sometimes," Race said. "_Not_ wetwork or anything he would consider even remotely unethical. That was my deal." Jim could hear the smiling grimace in the words. "But he's got really specialized access to more databases than you'd think."

"CIA, NSA, Pentagon?"

"For a start." Suddenly Race chuckled. "If you knew what we _could_ have pulled up for you, you'd be less worried. We searched the equivalent of a small-town public library on you. If we had wanted to, we could have had anything the government has ever known about you and lots of things they don't know that they know."

"So what's really going on?" Jonny perched on the arm of the chair. "These guys who have my dad and Hadji – they were after Mister Sandburg. But why?"

"I'm not sure," Jim shook his head. "Something to do with Sentinels. That's why he was down here, to meet a Sentinel." A helpless sort of anger washed through Jim and he looked at the two teenagers. "So you know my big secret now. You've got everything Sandburg ever wrote and you could get everything I don't want anybody to see. And I'm supposed to trust you after this?"

"You should," Jessie said and her voice had softened. "To be honest, you're not even the strangest thing we've ever seen or the most important secret we've ever kept."

"What _exactly_ do you all do?" Jim frowned.

"Oh, me and Jess, we're just students, you know," Jonny said all too flippantly. "Dad is a phenomenologist, so he studies things that have no explanation. He's also got doctorates in about seventeen different fields from particle physics and computer programing to archeology to biochemistry. Race is his bodyguard. Hadji works as his assistant now. We go all over the world to solve mysteries."

"It's a little like being a detective, detective," Race was definitely smiling now even if he wasn't looking away from the controls. "Except instead of solving murders or robberies we're solving alien abductions, ghost stories, sea monsters, and super-viruses. Oh, and now and again we have to deal with terrorists."

"Aliens and sea monsters?" Jim asked doubtfully. He wasn't going to say one word about ghosts or super-viruses or terrorists. He'd had enough of those for a lifetime.

"That's why Doctor Quest was in Borneo," Jessie nodded. "There were rumors, substantiated with pictures, of a 100-foot long serpent. We were going to find it."

Jim shook his head. He didn't want to know. Heightened senses were one thing. This was going down that path with spirit animals and ghosts that he avoided thinking about at all costs. He shoved that information into the same dark corner of his mind that was made to hold memories of Sandburg's drowning, what he'd seen in the Temple of Light in Mexico, and the outright paranoia that was threatening to break loose at the secrets so effortlessly spilled by the two teens and Race.

"Any other questions?" Jonny asked. "We know your big secret now, and your friend's. It's only fair, I guess, if we come clean."

"Just one." Jim decided. He looked at Jessie. "Why are you so mad?"

"You lied to us," she took a step back and Jim felt a flash of victory.

He leaned forward. "And you already know why. In all those documents, don't you have evidence of what happened when my secret got out?" She nodded. "And you haven't gone public with all your aliens and sea monsters either, and you probably had a good reason. And you'd lie to me if you had to in order to protect the Quests. So that's not why."

Jim wondered for a moment why he was being so…pushy was probably the word for it. Normally he wouldn't dream of speaking to a minor like this unless he suspected them of a crime. He wasn't entirely sure why these two struck him differently than other kids. And for that matter, why wasn't Race calling him on being out of line? Except, well, Race knew these kids. If they could handle terrorists and super-viruses, Jim was willing to bet Race wasn't going to stress over Jim's little interrogation. If Jim started really playing "bad cop," though, he had no doubt he'd find Race taking exception to that.

"He's right, Jess," Jonny said quietly. "It's not like you to react like this. What's going on?"

Jessie turned to look away from them both.

"Come on, Ponchita," Race said warmly. "Get it out now while we've got the time to defuse it before it blows up in our faces later."

"I think you're a coward."

Cold silence.

"Jessie, you'd better explain that," Race said. Jim heard patience in the words, but also a certain wary anger. Anger on his behalf?

"I read the dissertation. Mister Sandburg talks about you like you're a hero, talks about your abilities like they're a gift. He writes about how a Sentinel is able to protect his tribe, anticipate danger and save lives and serve the people. He also wrote extensively about the problems you had because of the senses – times you thought you were going crazy or debilitating zone-outs that looked like seizures. He doesn't come out and say it, but the results speak for themselves. Before you knew how to be a Sentinel, you were in constant danger of seizing at the worst time, maybe risking lives in the process."

She took a deep breath, face pinched and pale.

"I saw the press conference too. He retracted all of it, even though it broke his heart to do it. Even though now he'll never get his doctorate and never work in academia again. No one will ever, _ever_ believe anything he says now because he's a fraud. And why? Why did he do it?"

"To protect me," Jim answered in a low voice, his chest tight. "To keep me out of the spotlight so I could do my job."

"Well he shouldn't have!" Jessie faced him, clenching her hands. "How many other Sentinels are out there, Detective Ellison? Do you even know? Obviously there was one in Borneo. What if there are lots of Sentinels? What if they get locked up in institutions as children because people think they're crazy? What if kids are getting misdiagnosed as being autistic or having ADHD or something because people don't know that they just need to be treated differently?"

She sucked in another breath. "And how many people would be safer if there were Sentinels on bomb squads, or on search and rescue teams? Sentinels could change the world, and knowing how to help them develop could mean the difference of lives! The dissertation talks about people with one or two hyperactive senses, but even they don't know how to use them to their full potential, either. They take medications to control the 'symptoms' and stay in closed environments to avoid an 'episode.' When they should be honing those skills to help people!"

"Jess…" Jonny put a hand on her arm, but he clearly didn't know what to say.

"I understand that you never wanted to be famous. Jonny never wanted to be famous, either, but he lives with it because of his dad. Doctor Quest could go the rest of his life without giving another interview. But they deal with that part because what Doctor Quest can give to the world outweighs the problem of being the center of attention. Blair Sandburg should be spreading his knowledge about Sentinels to every hospital and school and psychiatrist he can find to make sure nobody ever feels like they were born _wrong_. And instead he buried it and ruined his life forever. He lied to the world and people will _die_ who wouldn't if there was a Sentinel to save them. And people will be drugged out of their minds because nobody knows any better."

There was actually a tear rolling down her cheek. "That's why I'm mad at you, Detective Ellison. I hate what Mister Sandburg did to protect you. I hate that he lied and ruined his career when he could be as good as Doctor Quest and he could make a real difference in the world. I hate that he did it to protect you because you of all people should have been the _first_ one to stand up and look out for any other Sentinels out there!"

Jessie gulped. "I'm sorry. I really am. I think you both made a horrible choice and there's nothing I can do about it. I know Doctor Quest has sealed the files on some of our investigations, but _never_ when it would have saved someone else's life."

"Come here, Jess," Race said after a moment.

Jessie scrubbed angrily at her face and stepped up to the spot just behind the pilot's seat. Race hit the button for autopilot and reached back to put an arm around her.

"It's not as easy as you think it is, Ponchita," he said in a low voice, which didn't stop Jim from listening. "And it's not up to you to decide if Ellison should give up his whole life that way. I don't think he's a coward. I saw the service record. That's not a man who hesitates to put himself on the line for others. But he doesn't live in the same world you do, kiddo. He didn't have the same choices."

Jessie made a half-gulping sigh. "He asked why I was mad," she whispered. "He didn't ask if it was _rational_. I know I'm not being fair."

"All right. Just work on that part. When we get Benton back, talk to him. Maybe Benton can find a way to fix things, okay?"

"Okay, dad."

"Always looking out for the good of mankind aren't you, Jess?" Jonny said as Jessie separated from her father.

"I guess," she shrugged. Then she turned to Jim and he watched her face transform as she visibly regained control. "I'm sorry I called you a coward, Detective Ellison. I'm not sorry for the rest of it, but I'm sorry for that part. I'm glad you found someone to help you, and I'm glad you're going to help us find Doctor Quest and Hadji. I shouldn't have yelled at you."

"Jim."

"What?" she frowned.

Jim let out a long breath. "I'm not going to get into most of what you just said. But I heard it. So call me Jim and we'll call it even for now, okay?" He met her eyes. "After we get our geeks back, maybe I'll let you yell at Sandburg just to make it fair and we'll see if those big brains come up with something. Okay? Can you live with that?"

"Yeah," Jessie nodded. "Yeah, I can live with that."

-==OOO==-

The helicopter landed slowly and Hadji focused on keeping his breathing even and his hand in place on Jaga's arm. He could not understand the trial it had been for the Sentinel to manage four hours on such a loud, distracting craft, especially for a man whose usual surroundings were peaceful and natural, but he could imagine it. After Blair had helped him gain his initial control, Jaga had held almost perfectly still for the entire journey and Hadji could feel the tension radiating from him. He remembered vaguely a paper on the distress of wild creatures removed from their territories to be put in zoos or preserves and wondered if there was an analogous instinctive discomfort and struggle happening within Jaga as well.

The men with guns who had vaguely watched but mostly ignored their four hostages now swarmed over them and more appeared from the outside until there were two guards each to keep them from attempting any escape. Not that Hadji thought much about escaping right that moment. Race or Jonny might have tried to overpower the guards and make a break for it, but Hadji was not willing to risk his life and the lives of the others until he had a better plan than punch and run. If Race or Jonny had been there, punch-and-run might even have worked. The universe was not often so kind to Hadji.

As he was escorted from the helicopter, Hadji took his chance to look around. They had alighted on the top of a multi-story building on an island off the coast, some distance from the nearest shoreline or adjacent islands. A few boats dotted the water, but from where he stood Hadji could not see much in the way of landmarks to suggest exactly where they were. That was more than a little disconcerting.

"Looks a little like a tropical Alcatraz, doesn't it?" Blair said lowly where he was being shoved alongside Hadji.

"And me without my raincoat," Hadji replied with a wry smile.

They were led to a stairwell and pushed down two flights until they came out in a corridor that could have belonged to any building in the world. It reminded Hadji more of a lab or a hospital than an office building, but only just – the whole space was _aggressively_ beige and plain. A door to their left opened and the four were shoved in. A moment later, the man Blair had nicknamed "Sunshine" joined them.

"Welcome to my little island getaway," he said. "Do you like it?"

Doctor Quest glanced at the stark, blank walls of the mostly empty room. "It could use a little redecorating," he commented. "Or are all your accommodations so Spartan?"

Hadji thought Doctor Quest had a good point. The room had a desk and a chair and virtually nothing else.

"No, no," Sunshine smiled. "We can't have the space too interesting for our _special_ guests."

"Can we just get on with this?" Blair snapped. "We're here, you want me to do research, and I'm not going to get that done with these," he shook his handcuffed wrists. "Or did you want to gloat for a while. 'Cause I can take a nap if that's the case. It's not like I've slept much in the last few days."

"If you are so eager, very well." The man reached to the desk and opened a drawer. A moment later, a portion of the floor slid away revealing a staircase. "This is the lab you will be working in, Mister Sandburg. You will take the Sentinel and the boy with you. There are no exits from that area but through here and this room is _always_ guarded. You will have everything you need inside."

"And what do you want me to do when we get down there?"

"You now have a Sentinel upon which to experiment. Every day you will receive instructions from me and every night you will report your results. Everything you do will be carefully monitored. Failure to meet my expectations will be punished by any means necessary."

"Sounds great," Blair sneered.

"What about me?" Doctor Quest asked.

"I have somewhere else to keep you," Sunshine shrugged. Then he looked straight at Blair and Hadji. "And you'd do well to remember that. If you try anything, know that I can get to Doctor Quest long before you can protect him."

Hadji felt his heart stutter in his chest. He managed to control his expression but he could not keep himself from turning to his adopted father.

"I want daily proof of life for all three of them," Doctor Quest said firmly.

"Yeah, same goes for us," Blair agreed.

"If you insist," Sunshine shrugged again. "I will arrange for a supervised communication. But take advantage of it and you _will_ regret it. Now," he nodded to his soldiers, "let's get started."

"Hadji," Doctor Quest evaded a guard and drew close to his son.

"Yes, Doctor Quest?"

"Be careful."

Hadji could see that the man wanted to say so much more. He would have given much to be able to hug his father before being separated, but they both knew it was too dangerous. Hadji's identity as adopted son was not terribly well known, and that gave them one less thing to worry about – if Sunshine knew that both could be controlled via a familial bond rather than a professional and perhaps friendly one, they would be in that much more danger. Hadji contented himself by closing his eyes and bowing his head slightly to his father.

"And you, sir." It was a poor excuse for what was in his heart, but he knew his father could hear the rest. Without any sort of hesitation, Hadji allowed himself to be led to the stairs and sealed in the space underneath with the others.

"Hey! I still want these cuffs off!" Blair yelled cantankerously as the door locked.

"At the bottom of the stairs you will find a key," came Sunshine's voice from a speaker above.

Hadji glanced at his companions. Blair was angry and frightened – but mostly he appeared to be maintaining a peevish frustration perfectly geared to annoy their captors. Jaga was still and silent, but Hadji sensed he was as unsettled as well. Sinking deep into his beliefs about inevitability, what Jonny rightly called "fatalism" even if he distinctly held no death wish, Hadji accepted their situation for what it was and resolved to see where it led him.

"Come," he said, taking the small key chained to the wall on a long tether and freeing the others before himself. "Let us explore our domain."

It was a strange space. There were no windows to the outside anywhere, though many between rooms on the floor itself. There was a dormitory with several bunk-beds lining the walls and a communal bathroom complete with a shower. The rest of the vast space was filled with strange rooms. One had no lights at all. One had enormous speakers that were controlled by a panel in the wall. There was even a small sort of gymnasium. The rooms went on and on.

"I feel like a rat in a maze," Blair grumbled.

"I believe that is the point," Hadji returned. "You must admit, were you to design a testing facility for one with hyperactive senses, you could not do much better yourself."

"Yeah, but I'd also include a…" he trailed off before suddenly grinning and hurrying down the hallway. Each room had been labeled with a numerical designation and a panel on the door that described the equipment or the features of the room within. Blair ignored four or five doors until he stopped before a specific one. "All right!"

"A quiet room?" Hadji asked.

"Get in, get in," Blair said quickly. Hadji shrugged and followed, Jaga at his heels. Blair closed the door and let out a sigh.

"Every other inch of this place is being monitored," he said.

"Yes, I saw the cameras," Hadji nodded. They were in the ceiling, every few feet in every area including the restroom, and he had no doubt they captured sound as well as visual.

"But not in here," Blair said. "Sentinels can hear cameras and equipment like that, can't you?" he turned to Jaga.

"Like insects buzzing," he nodded.

"So they _had_ to leave us one place that was utterly free of that stuff, in case Jaga gets overwhelmed. One place where the only noise will come from that light," he pointed up at the single fixture. "Jaga, do you hear anything at all outside this room?"

"No, Sang Kancil."

"Right," he nodded, "because they've probably stacked the walls with white-noise generators."

"So we have one space in which we may find some privacy," Hadji understood.

"We're going to play their game. We're going to have to," Blair said. "But from here we can play our own, too. I vote we haul some mattresses in here for the night. There's no way I'm sleeping where they can watch. Creepy, man."

"Agreed," Hadji nodded. Jaga nodded as well.

But as they moved back into the hall to gather the blankets and pallets, Hadji felt something squeezing at his heart. Rats in a maze indeed. The freedom of movement and the quiet room were illusions – the reality was that they were prisoners and almost more helpless than they had been bound in a windowless room. From here, they could be _controlled_, not just merely contained.

_Hurry, Jonny_, Hadji thought fervently. _You must find us before the tricks we perform in this maze endanger someone_. He glanced at Jaga and shivered with a profound foreboding.


	6. Chapter 6

Thank goodness for Wikipedia. Particularly for this first section. Because, yeah, what I knew about Brunei on my own? Not even close.

Enjoy!

* * *

><p>"That's it. I'm honestly going to strangle that man!" Jim raged.<p>

"I hate to say it, but I'm to the point that I'm ready to hold him down for you," Race met his eyes firmly. "_Five days_ is beyond ridiculous."

"Ha," Jonny looked to Jessie with a tired but triumphant smirk. "Too bad they didn't listen to us the first time."

"You said it," she agreed.

The moment the Dragonfly had touched down in Brunei's capital city, Bandar Seri Begawan, they had been met by an emissary from the government named Abdul Rahman bin Rasyid (referred to as Datuk Rahman per the Malaysian cultural conventions). Datuk Rahman was a secretary in the Sultan's government and had offered whatever connections he could provide to assist in the search for the kidnapped scientists. He had set up the four of them in a large suite in a central hotel and provided a direct line to communicate with the Royal Brunei Air Force. Those first few hours, both Race and Jim had been confident that their search would end quickly.

By mid-afternoon local time, all four had crashed under a desperate need to sleep, and when they awoke the next morning, it was as though everything had changed. The contact at the Air Force reported that no readings of any large helicopters had been recorded over their airspace or anywhere in range. The military also categorically denied that any helicopters of that size existed in Brunei at all. Datuk Rahman had pledged to personally escort Race and Jim to meet with the Brigadier General and see if they could turn up something on independent investigation, but almost before they could blink an order came down from somewhere that the Air Force would be engaged for the next week in emergency drills and no foreigners could be permitted to observe the exercise.

It was at that point that Jonny had suggested they were being _deliberately_ stonewalled by the government of Brunei directly and it was time to take matters into their own hands. Jim and Race had advised him to keep that opinion to himself and continued to try to work the proper channels. However, they had also begun quietly working the unofficial channels, both calling in military contacts and favors to see what they could learn. Unfortunately, neither Jim nor Race knew anybody with enough pull to shed some light on their situation. And any time they were caught doing any sort of investigating, they were firmly turned away.

Datuk Rahman had visited two and three times each day, eager to help and useless when it came to actually helping. Now, on the fifth day, Jim had very nearly thrown the man out of the room.

"Hate to say it," Race looked over at Jonny, "but you were right. Time to drop the 'help' we're getting and just go ahead on our own."

It was like the words had broken a spell of tension and mistrust in the room and all four relaxed a bit. They knew where they stood now. They knew they could not count on outside help. That, if nothing else, was a form of progress.

It might have made them feel better, but most of a week since any sort of assurance the three men were safe had still torn their would-be rescuers to shreds in the meantime.

"Okay, let's pool what we know," Jim strode over to the wall upon which the four of them had tacked up all their information as they tried to piece things together. Of course, under Jim's pillow was a file of information or notes they'd taken that they hadn't been willing to share, and when he was certain their visitor had indeed left the hotel entirely he drew it out and began affixing the added pieces.

"A satellite in orbit picked up the blip of the helicopter crossing into Brunei airspace just about four and a half hours after it took off from the jungle," Race said, tacking up the image he and Jessie had pulled with the help of the Quest network. "Nothing else was in the air coming from that direction, so that's our guys."

"Even if the government says it never happened," Jonny grumbled.

"The flightpath from what we can see in the satellite feed shows the helicopter heading almost north and a little to the east, so there's a good chance they landed somewhere in the city," Jessie picked up the narrative. "There's not a lot else on that straight line but the capital."

"I've physically walked by every helipad we could find that would be large enough to land a chopper of that size," Jim stuck pins viciously into the map of the city, almost satisfied by the holes they would leave behind in the wall. "I couldn't get close to some of them – mostly the ones under tight military control, so I could only eliminate a few as being likely landing points."

"They would have landed after sunrise, so wherever they are, they had to bring the chopper down somewhere it wouldn't draw attention." Race studied the map again and crossed out a few spots. "No way to get three scientists and a local out of a craft that big without somebody seeing something. I don't care how controlled this country is – they still have the internet."

"Yeah, but most people don't have access to it. I didn't find anything anywhere in any language about it on the web," Jonny added. "So that's not necessarily saying much of anything."

"I still think this had to be done in secret," Race replied. "That helicopter came in from a foreign country. Even if the government could assume no citizen would say a word about it to anybody, there would still be the risk of reprisals if it was known that American citizens were abducted from Malaysia and transported to Brunei. They couldn't risk it."

"We know the government is in on it somehow," Jim said tightly. "It's just a question of how much. Annoying as he is, Datuk Rahman seems like he's telling the truth when he's dealing with us. I don't think he knows what's going on."

"Is that a Sentinel thing?" Jessie asked curiously.

"His heart-rate stays steady, he doesn't sweat, his pupils don't dilate, and his respiration doesn't change. Either he's a world-class actor or he is sociopathic and doesn't mind lying, or he's telling the truth when he says he wants to help." Jim crossed his arms. "It's a not good move to give us access to someone who can 'help' but who isn't in on it with whoever is trying to stop us. They run the risk of inadvertent exposure by their own man."

"Like how we were going to get to talk to the Brigadier General and then suddenly that whole plan just evaporated in a cloud of coincidence," Jonny said. "Then why send him to us in the first place?"

"I'm willing to bet that when we first got here, whoever is running this show didn't know what was going on," Race answered. "And between when we went to bed and when we got up a few hours later, somebody somewhere got a memo and they had to scramble to pull the rug out from under our friend without letting him know what was going on."

"But why would the government want to protect kidnappers?" Jessie asked. Then her eyes widened with the conclusion she had drawn. "They know about Sentinels."

"That's kind of a big leap, Jess," Jonny said skeptically. "There could just be somebody in the government who is in the back-pocket of our bad guys without the whole government knowing about Sentinels. Maybe that one guy doesn't even know what the bad guys wanted – he's just covering their tracks."

"That _is_ more reasonable," Race said. But he watched his daughter as she shook her head, frowning darkly.

Jessie turned to Jim. "You're a cop and you were military before that, right? Working in Peru with local forces?"

"Yeah..." he drew out the word questioningly.

"How many people would you have had to bribe to pull off something like this as an outsider?" she asked. "How many people would be involved in concealing the radar findings, answering the phone every time we call and brushing us off, making sure nobody saw the chopper land? How many for all of it?"

"In Peru?" He considered, the cold pit in his stomach getting instantly colder. "At least a dozen, probably a lot more since they'd be really spread out and you couldn't count on having just one man on watch at the right time."

"Brunei is a Sharia nation with an established monarchy and nobility, all patriarchal," Jessie surged forward in her theory eagerly. "Strict punishment, strong authoritarian culture, overtones of central control over every aspect of life. You might be able to bribe a couple of people, but long before you get to ten or twelve somebody is going to confess the whole thing to their superior or risk the wrath of the powers that be."

"She's right," Jim nodded. "I've worked in countries like this before. Something of this magnitude goes all the way up the chain." He clenched his hands before saying lowly, "I hate to admit it, but there's almost no way the government doesn't know all about whoever snatched our guys. Jess, I think you're on to something here."

"Well, if they're not going to play fair, neither am I," Jonny declared. He pulled up his laptop and began typing furiously.

"Whatcha got?" Race leaned to see.

"I started searching for those helicopters a couple of days ago," Jonny didn't even look up. "Most of them are in use by governments or other official bodies. The MI-26 is a Russian design. Only a few have ever left Russia, and those were mostly traded to allies. But a couple went to a Russian airline, who had the right to sell them privately."

"Can you track them?" Jim asked.

"Maybe."

"So what are you thinking?" Jessie was watching the screen intently.

"Like Race said, I don't think the government actually did this – I think they just know about it. They wouldn't risk an international incident by kidnapping people, especially not dad. That means whoever is behind this probably isn't operating out of a military base. But if the government knows all about it, they're here legally, and that means at least some kind of paper trail. If I can cross-reference the financials of people who had access to those helicopters with people who bought property here in Brunei, we might be able to find them!"

"Kid, you got a summer job lined up?" Jim asked with a weary smile.

That was surprising enough for Jonny to pause and look up. "No. Why?"

"Wanna come be a cop for a while? With thinking like that and the computer skills to back it up, you can come hang out in Major Crimes with me and Sandburg any time."

"How long will the search take?" Race asked, even as he clapped Jonny on the shoulder with a wordless expression of pride.

"The Quest network can do most of the heavy lifting, and we got started on programming this when we figured something fishy was going on," Jessie said, settling in beside Jonny with her own computer. "Give us a few hours to finish coding the search and we'll be in business. Once we crack the right systems, it won't take long to get results."

Jonny didn't even need to look over to know what Jessie was doing as she configured her own program. He would come at it from the helicopter angle and she would set up the network to pull property information from Brunei and, if he knew her as well as he thought he did, all surrounding areas within range. It was of course possible that the helicopter had landed only to transfer its cargo to another or a plane, but Jonny didn't think so. Something in his gut told him his father and Hadji weren't on the other side of the world. That they were _here_, somewhere close by.

_Hang on, guys_, he thought fiercely. _We're coming. We'll get you back. I promise_.

-==OOO==-

It was quieter than usual in the quiet room. The space was lit with a single candle Blair had liberated from one of the testing rooms. It wasn't their choice strictly because the burning flame was even quieter than the single light overhead – it was because the firelight was _real_ in this world of clinical madness.

For days, Blair and Hadji had been fulfilling their assignments from Sunshine by experimenting on Jaga. Every morning, breakfast arrived through a small conveyor that they had already established was too narrow for even Hadji to scale (and Blair had been impressed with Hadji's seemingly unending suggestions for possible routes of escape, though none had yet proved successful). Blair, Hadji, and Jaga would eat in near silence until a screen on the wall lit up with their tasks for the day. Once Sunshine himself had appeared to speak to them in the morning, but more often it was an impersonal list of variables and conditions and hypotheses.

Sometimes the requests were what Blair would have called reasonable. Things like establishing Jaga's range and limits. Or working to isolate one sense from another such as the day they put him in the "loud" room with music blaring and made him focus until he could hear Hadji speaking on the other side of the door. The tests were often unpleasant for Jaga (and, by extension, for Blair and Hadji), but they made sense.

Then there was the other stuff. There had been a test where they tested Jaga's hearing and whether or not it changed based on what language he was listening for. Or whether his results changed if his food was different brands than usual. While Blair recognized that changing the foods might have impacted Jaga if he had an allergy or something, he didn't think one brand of bread was different enough from another to warrant redoing all the visual testing.

The list of demands was usually long enough that not one of the three had more than a few minutes of rest until dinner was served – there was no midday meal. Hadji had suggested they keep a bit of their breakfast for a snack, but their breakfasts were immediately cut in half so they stopped. Over dinner, the screen would again light up, this time with Sunshine leering at them in person from his office above. Blair and Hadji would present the results of the day's test, answering all questions as best they could. The pair of them had bonded almost instantly over their ability to obfuscate, and so while they did present the truth of their findings – which were all monitored anyway – they also managed to keep a few secrets. Jaga had proved adept at throwing the right tests, so even after all this work their captors did not know the extent of his abilities with any accuracy, and a few of his particular weaknesses and strengths had been obscured as well.

When Sunshine was satisfied, the screen would flip to what appeared to be a small cell holding Doctor Quest. There was no sound in this communication, but with gestures and expressions they were able to establish that Doctor Quest was still unharmed and that each day's contact was not pre-recorded. Doctor Quest looked pale with worry and overwork, but the spark of stubbornness in his eyes had not faded and his strength under duress did much to lift the flagging spirits of those trapped in the maze.

When the screen finally went dark, Blair and Hadji retreated to the quiet room. Jaga, on the other hand, had gotten into the habit of patrolling the maze for an hour or two. The fact that he could perceive enemies above and below set him on edge, and he did not feel secure unless he had established that this insulated domain had not been breached before he allowed himself to sleep. But while Hadji and Blair slept in the quiet room, Jaga slept in the hall, his pallet pulled across the door. To keep him from being isolated when all three were asleep, they left the door open so they could hear one another. After all, if they weren't talking, it didn't matter if they breached the sanctity of the quiet room slightly. At all other times, though, the door was shut firmly.

Blair rubbed his hands through his hair.

"I hate this," he said aloud.

Hadji opened his eyes from where he had been meditating and met his gaze evenly. "As do I."

"I can't stop worrying about what we're giving them," Blair wanted to bounce but forced himself to stay seated on his pallet. His legs ached from a day of walking around in heavy boots as part of a hearing test. "Not only is it a massive betrayal of everything I've ever done, but I can't help but think that what we're doing is going to come back to bite Jim somehow. Even if we keep some of what Jaga can do under wraps, the stuff they already know could shut him down, man. Not to mention any other Sentinel they meet."

"I have been thinking more along those lines myself," Hadji said softly.

"What do you mean?"

"If Detective Ellison and Jaga were the only Sentinels alive today, there would be no purpose to our current studies or even our incarceration. Perhaps our adversaries would wish to study _them_ in worse ways, but their focus would be different. If there are only two Sentinels in the world, why do they need to know how to cause one to zone by sound alone?"

"I got so caught up, I never even thought of that!" Blair was appalled. "Because that means there _are_ other Sentinels out there, enough to make all this worthwhile."

"Sentinels in sensitive positions that need to be countered by the likes of Sunshine," Hadji added.

Blair considered. "Well, Sentinels in general make good soldiers, but they make _great_ protectors and watchdogs. And most of what we've been asked to do would fit into trying to shut down a Sentinel standing guard rather than to beat one in a fight."

"So whatever we are sharing with our hosts, they clearly know of something worth guarding that they cannot gain any other way unless they can best the Sentinel in place to protect it." Hadji's forehead was creased with worry. "Anything I can think of that meets that criteria is worrying, some more than others. The king does not guard his trash with his finest soldiers."

"Oh, this is _so_ not good for the karma," Blair let out a long, angry breath.

"We are where we are meant to be," Hadji replied gently. "We can only move forward with the tools in our hands until our fate opens a way for us to make a new choice."

"You do that serenity thing really well," Blair found himself huffing with amusement in spite of himself. "My mom was always big into Eastern thought, but she never internalized it the way you do."

"Practice," Hadji smiled warmly. He closed his eyes to return to meditation.

Blair wanted to join him in it. He really did. Most nights he was able to quiet his mind at least a little, which was the only reason he wasn't flat-out tearing the place apart. He'd been terrified the first day. By now he was over fear – obviously they weren't going to kill him any time soon if the ever-longer list of tasks was anything to go by – and he was deep into another kind of anxiety. The windowless maze was grating on him, the artificial air almost suffocating. He wanted out. And he wanted answers. And he wanted Jim.

_Except I wouldn't wish this on Jim no matter what_, he thought. _Even if it would make me feel better to have him here, and even if he would be the best one to find us a way out. Even at the cost of everything, I'd rather be here alone_.

Blair found himself staring at the small collection of belongings gathered next to the head of Hadji's pallet. He might not have studied it at all except that he was searching for something, anything, to take his mind off everything else and the pile was convenient. It contained only a few things – some of the straight pins he had kept in his turban, a water cup, a small notebook and pencil, some pieces of wiring and such – but their arrangement was what struck Blair the most. The items were carefully balanced in a neat pile. There was something…

"A bolt bag," he breathed aloud.

Hadji opened an eye again and followed his friend's gaze. Looking back with understanding, he nodded. "If you mean that my meager belongings are ready at any moment to be gathered up in a single motion that I might keep them with me when our opportunity comes to flee, you are correct."

"I've always kept a backpack," Blair admitted. "Right under my bed, where I can reach it. All the essentials except the everyday stuff like a phone and laptop stay in it permanently. So if I needed to bail I wouldn't have to take time worrying about packing. I'd already be out the door."

"It is the habit of a nomadic lifestyle," Hadji said knowingly. "Or one in which you had little certainty that where you made your bed from one night to the next would remain available. The snail carries its shell so it is never without home."

"Yeah." Blair ran a hand through his hair again. "I'm just surprised you've got the same habit."

"Ah. Until the approximate age of eleven I lived on the streets of Calcutta," Hadji explained. "I am well familiar with fleeing and having no opportunity to prepare properly for a journey."

"Man. I didn't know," Blair shook his head. "Sorry, Hadj."

"You have nothing for which to apologize. It was certainly not your fault."

Blair's mind was rapidly reconfiguring itself. Suddenly certain things about Hadji made more sense than they had previously. The kid would have grown up in a social structure not totally unlike what they faced now, where the bullies sat at the top and those who were powerless were utterly at their mercy. It explained how he could so easily accept the domination of their captors, and yet remain largely nonplussed after their displays of power. How he would have unusual insight into possible means to escape. And Blair could write a whole paper on Hadji's cold comfort and yet extreme discomfort with being separated from Doctor Quest under these circumstances.

What he said instead was, "Good to know you're as ready for an out as I am."

"Perhaps more so, my friend," Hadji replied. "You know well that your detective will come for you in time. But for me, it is far more immediate. The rest of our family is likely already closing in on our position."

"Are they any good at this stuff?" Blair wanted to know.

The satisfied, secret smile that spread over Hadji's face warmed him even as it made his stomach flip in sudden hope and relief.

"Just be prepared to flee at the first opportunity," he answered. "And if there is a whirlwind of chaos, trust that that is where we shall find the others."

"Jim would say usually _I'm_ the one in the center of that whirlwind," Blair smiled. "Captain Banks says I create something called the 'Sandburg Zone' where anything that can go wrong does, times ten."

"Murphy's law with a side of Finagle's law, then," Hadji chuckled. "Believe me, I understand. Just wait until you meet _Jonny_."

-==OOO==-

Doctor Quest looked over his board with a sigh. "I wonder if this is the only prison cell run by mercenaries with a whiteboard in it," he thought to himself.

When Benton had been separated from Hadji, Blair, and Jaga, the man they called Sunshine had escorted him several levels down in the building to a large laboratory. He'd been tethered to a stout ring in the floor by a chain around his ankle, but otherwise left unrestrained. However, there were always two guards in the room and Benton knew well that the doors were guarded on the outside as well. If he'd been alone, he still would have tried to escape. But with Hadji and the others trapped, he had decided not to risk their safety unless he had no other choice.

Benton had been worried about what exactly he was going to be asked to do, and he almost sighed with relief when given his assignment.

"This serum has been in development for years," Sunshine had said, pointing to a long and complex chemical structure written on one wall. "It works in every particular but one – it has a nasty tendency to be lethal."

"What do you want me to do with it?" Benton had asked.

"All the research is there," the man had gestured at the stacks of files. "Find a way to replicate all the effects of the serum, and I do mean _all_ of them, without its administration being fatal."

_Well_, Benton considered, _that could have been worse. I'd much rather make something safer than more deadly_.

Once he realized what it was for, he was even more motivated to ensure that application of the serum to any test subject would not result in death. But keeping the integrity of the formula without its dangerous side-effects had proved extremely difficult. After the first day, when Benton couldn't sleep – because who would sleep well not knowing if their son and two innocents were safe in this complex of soldiers? – he had started drawing on the walls, using his insomnia to further his research. After the second day, they had given him a whiteboard to use instead of the walls.

_I'm close_, he realized as he circled the part of the chemical formula that had only this afternoon proved an adequate substitute for one of the deadly compounds in the mix, _and before long I'll have a sample_.

He paused as a cold regret washed through him. _I can only pray it never gets used. Even if it doesn't kill, anyone infected would never be the same_.

-==OOO==-

Jim followed his senses to the roof. Somehow he was not surprised that Jonny had picked or otherwise disabled the locks in the maintenance stairwell to give him a place away from the others.

"Hey," he offered, startling the kid. Jonny spun away from where he looked out over the city.

"Geez! Why don't you just throw me off next time?" he shot back irritably. Then, with a wince visible even to non-Sentinel eyes, he said more softly. "Sorry."

"No problem." Jim walked over to stand beside him, leaning on the low railing and letting his sight extend a little as he peered into the city's lights.

Jim let the kid fidget in the silence until finally Jonny said, "I don't need you up here with me, if that's what you think. I'm fine on my own."

"Actually, I kind of figured that out," Jim tipped his head to smile a little. "Besides, if you weren't fine, it doesn't take a genius to realize that Bannon would already be up here dealing with you."

"Oh yeah," Jonny nodded. "He's all about giving you your own space to sort out your problems until he thinks you aren't sorting them right and then he drags it out of you."

"I know somebody kind of like that, too," Jim admitted. "Except he'll talk you to death first."

"You mean Mister Sandburg?"

"Yeah. Don't tell him I said so, but I'm really starting to miss his chatter." Jim didn't look at Jonny when he said it. Instead, he closed his eyes. "Plus, we could use the guy. He can talk himself into just about any situation and talk his way out of it again. If Blair were here, we'd have gotten everything we need out of that Rahman guy long ago."

"Maybe," Jonny said. "But if he were here, you wouldn't be. And—" He stopped.

"If Blair weren't in trouble, your family wouldn't be, either. I know. I haven't forgotten," Jim said softly. "It's not Blair's fault. It's not even _my_ fault for once," he sighed ruefully. "But I'm still sorry your dad and your brother are caught up in the Sandburg Zone, kid."

"We've had this happen I don't even know how many times," Jonny said. "But it's never taken this long before." His voice dropped and Jim had to dial up his hearing to compensate. "It's never been this hard to find them before."

"We're going to find them," Jim said stoutly with the patience of a seasoned detective who knew how long real investigations could take.

"Actually, I kind of know that." Jim turned to Jonny in surprise, and the kid flashed a grin at him. "You haven't met my dad and Hadji yet, but they're two of the smartest people I know. Dad has been facing off against bad guys ten times worse than this since before I was born. Hadji grew up in the streets fighting for his life. They're tough and they won't be scared. They'll be waiting for us when we get there. I know that."

"But?" Jim urged.

"But I can't shake the feeling that this isn't like all the other times," Jonny confessed. "That something really bad can still go wrong this time. That something will happen that we can't just laugh off and go on with our day. And the longer they're gone, the worse it feels."

"You know," Jim said softly. "I know exactly how you feel." He turned back to the horizon and let the words go. "Not long ago, things got weird with me and Sandburg and the Sentinel thing. We both made a couple of bad calls, and it almost…we almost didn't come back from it." He suppressed a shudder. "Blair's been in the middle of trouble every day I've known him, but…I just don't want this time to turn into last time."

"We'll find them," Jonny said softly, assuring himself as well as Jim.

"We'll find them," Jim agreed. What he didn't say was, _Or somebody is going to pay. Big time_.


	7. Chapter 7

Thank you everyone who has been responding so far! You guys are the best. It's pretty scary to wade into such a strong, established fandom. And, as you'll see here, I've done it kind of on my own terms. It's just the start of it, mind, but I've kind of recreated the Sentinel mythology from the ground up and by the time we hit Arc 4, well, we're going to blow the doors off this thing entirely.

But one step at a time. See you on Friday for the next update!

Enjoy!

* * *

><p>"Stop! Stop!"<p>

Hadji reacted on instinct– at Blair's shout he immediately hit the switch to bring the machine to stillness. Only when he was certain that it had shut down completely did he look up.

Blair was already on one knee, hands frantically fluttering over Jaga's back, afraid to touch and unable to help himself. It had been an experiment to determine the impact of radiated heat on a Sentinel's ability to monitor his surroundings. Jaga had been positioned next to a small but powerful heater and the temperature had been steadily increased while he was asked to repeat sounds from two rooms over. He had stood without complaint for two hours enduring the increasing temperature and airflow directed at his bare back while correctly answering Hadji's questions as Blair monitored.

"He set the pain dial too low," Blair said, angling his body to better absorb any remaining heat pouring off the heater and spare the Sentinel who had collapsed. "Didn't feel it burning until it became too much for him."

"Sorry, Sang Kancil," Jaga said around a wispy breath. "Mind was elsewhere and the waters fell."

"Well, keep those waters low for now," Blair answered. "Speaking of which, I have an old trick for burns like this. I'll be right back." He nodded to Hadji and the young Indian took his place at Jaga's side, the slowly cooling machine making his own back prickle at the uncomfortable warmth.

With more than a week spent working with Jaga, Hadji and Blair had learned a great deal about their new Sentinel ally. Though Jaga fully understood dials and how they worked, they had learned that he responded better to controlling his senses through something much more innate – in his case, by visualizing the water level in a river or a tide coming in. When in the quiet room and away from their captors, Blair had explored the water levels method thoroughly, finding to his surprise that it actually made the senses work differently from what he was used to with Jim. The dials imagery that worked so well for Jim meant that Jim's senses tended to adjust up or down incrementally, even if he spun the dials quickly. For Jaga, one sense could flood the river in his mind and go from the barest trickle to a raging torrent in a flash. But the water imagery also meant that Jaga was more prone to zone-outs, literally drowning in the senses in his mind. Hadji and Blair had combined their knowledge of psychology and meditation to begin uncovering the unique connection between visualization and biofeedback to uncover why the difference was so pronounced.

Hadji let his voice slide into the low drone that he had learned tended to help Jaga focus. "Breathe slowly, my friend. If you can permit me to touch you, I can attempt to alleviate at least some of your distress."

Jaga took a deep breath and let it out in a tightly controlled whoosh. Then he nodded. "Try now."

Hadji did not hesitate. Noting the irregular pattern of burning on the man's skin, he traced his fingers lightly down the planes of his back, first just to ensure Jaga could abide the touch. When he did not react, Hadji began to move more deliberately. At specific junctions of muscle and bone and nerve, he applied a firm, steady pressure. Remembering a trick from his studies, Hadji began to hum low in his chest, settling into a tone that he could feel reverberating throughout his body. A non-Sentinel might not feel the difference of a vibration along with the acupressure, but Jaga did. In moments he began to relax as the tension of pain ran out of him.

"Great idea," Blair said as he returned. "I only know a couple of good pressure points. And the sound will give him something for another sense, too."

He was carrying a large bowl of very soft cloths soaking in cool water with a dribbling of honey left over from breakfast. Blair and Hadji carefully covered every inch of the burned skin with wetted cloths, then bound the whole thing up with gauze.

"Just a couple of hours and your skin will stop feeling so raw," Blair said. "We'll keep them wet and cool and you won't have anything worse than a sunburn before long." But then he looked straight up into one of the cameras in the room and glared. "Tests are over for the day. Unless you want a Sentinel with skewed data from pain and skin oversensitivity, and I know you don't."

There was no response from their watchers, and after a moment Blair and Hadji both relaxed. Without another word, they eased Jaga to his feet and steered him to the quiet room.

"I know you weren't acting," Blair said the minute they were outside monitoring range, "but is it really as bad as it looks?"

"No," Jaga said, a sly smile crossing his face. "Pain, yes, but not so strong. No reason to fall but to annoy those who watch."

"Then that is yet another test in which we have failed to provide true results to our hosts," Hadji sat back with a smile of his own. "By my count, for every accurate point of data, we have provided an inaccurate measure as well."

"Hey, gotta stick it to the man somehow," Blair commented. He started rooting around in the corner of the room where they had hoarded some basic supplies. "But I mean it about the water, Jaga. Both on the burn and inside. Drink up." He tossed a bottled water across and offered one to Hadji as well.

"As we have now gained an afternoon to ourselves," Hadji took the bottle and arranged his feet under him, "perhaps we may continue our conversation from last night."

"You push like wind over leaves," Jaga said with good humor in his eyes. "To drink or to tell? I cannot do both. Seems I disobey Nyineng either way, Sang Beruang."

But Hadji's contrition showed none of that humor. "I apologize. I do not wish you to suffer for my eagerness."

Jaga reached over and put a hand on Hadji's knee. "Sorrow for curiosity does not suit you," he said. "Like Kancil, Beruang your heart and mind always good."

Hadji smiled at him. Jaga had taken to calling him 'Sang Beruang' the same way he called Blair 'Sang Kancil.' The kancil was an important figure in many legends and fables of the peoples throughout the area of Borneo from which Jaga came, a clever trickster who overcame adversity through wits and intelligence. The kancil being disarmingly small and meek-looking while formidable in his own right reminded Hadji very well of Blair Sandburg. It had been a term of reverend respect the Sentinel had given from almost the moment he had met Blair, and Hadji was honored to have earned a moniker as well. 'Beruang' was the word for bear in one of Jaga's languages, and he had told the story of a bear that was loyal and brave having killed a tiger to protect his farmer only for the foolish human to turn on him. Jaga had explained that, to him, a beruang meant strength and loyalty and honor, even if it also meant being an outsider. That keen analysis had shocked and warmed Hadji to the core.

With Jaga's forgiveness, Hadji picked up on their discussion from the previous night. "You were telling us that your Sentinel training is not yet complete, and yet you show remarkable control. What is still lacking?"

Blair sat down and leaned forward eagerly. He _loved_ hearing about Jaga's Sentinel knowledge. It was so very different from everything he'd ever read or learned on the subject himself.

"Not training incomplete. Sentinel incomplete." He shifted a little closer himself and spoke as if reciting the holiest of words. "Sentinel is Sentinel from time of child, control learned at beginning. Sentinel can be Sentinel whole life alone if strong enough. But Sentinel never be true Sentinel without Nyineng."

"You said before that we had misunderstood the meaning of Nyineng," Hadji said curiously. "What does that mean?"

"Any man may see and hear," Jaga answered, "but what Sentinel see and hear is different. Any man may call Sentinel from shadow, but only Nyineng make him whole."

"You're saying there's a specific person who partners with a Sentinel and that person has some bearing on the actual skills of the Sentinel?" Blair asked. "Like how many might be able to speak to the spirits but there's always a shaman to guide the village and protect it?"

"All Nyineng are shaman, but not all shaman can be Nyineng," Jaga shook his head. "Nyineng join animal spirit of one Sentinel. Shaman can touch all animal spirits and speak to them, but not make Sentinel whole."

"What does it mean to make a Sentinel whole?" Hadji asked.

"Oh man," Blair sat back in wonder. "You're talking about combining…oh man."

"Yes," Jaga looked at Blair and stared as if he could see through him. "You are Nyineng to Sentinel. Easy to see for Sentinel with eyes. Need to learn the ways of Nyineng, but soul is right." His gaze moved over to Hadji. "You have right soul, too, Sang Beruang, even if no Sentinel yet."

"I don't understand," Hadji shook his head.

"You saw in my research that my ancient sources referred to Sentinels having a partner to help them manage their senses and keep watch when they zoned out, right?" Blair asked, his mind piecing things together swiftly.

"Yes."

"I never realized it before, but there was never any real information about that person in any of the first-person accounts, just a brief mention. But I've seen that kind of omission before, particularly when dealing with someone with a specialized role in a tribe. You can't hide the chief or the shaman from an outsider, but you might obscure the identity of someone with a sensitive role. Like how you can't hide the chief of police but you're not going to publish a list of all the city's undercover cops in the newspaper."

Blair bounced to his feet and started to pace as he thought aloud.

"Tribes might have tried to hide the identity of a Sentinel, but they would only be able to do it for so long. Sentinels were usually their most decorated warriors and scouts. They would have to be on the front lines facing off against the tribe's enemies. There'd be no way to conceal their abilities after a while. But if there was someone the Sentinel relied upon, someone the tribe trusted to take care of the Sentinel and bridge the gap between the Sentinel and the rest of their people, that person would be valuable enough to hide. And when the animal spirits merge and that person is spiritually tied to the Sentinel for life, the Sentinel would make sure no outsiders ever got too close. Of _course_ they wouldn't let anyone publish any details about them!"

"I'm sorry – their spirit animals _merge_?" Hadji asked, his eyebrows almost into his turban.

"Yes, they…oh, that's not in the diss. Sorry," Blair ran a hand through his hair. "Right. Something really bad happened and I died at one point a while back." At the stricken look on Hadji's face, Blair managed a self-depreciating grin. "It didn't stick."

"Evidently not. Or I must begin to question an entirely different set of beliefs."

Blair laughed. "Jim brought me back. We had the same vision of our spirit animals joining in a flash of light."

"Now you understand," Jaga nodded. "You are Nyineng to Sentinel. Can talk me through troubles, but cannot join my spirit animal. True Sentinel can tell difference."

"So how does being Nyineng differ from what you said I can do?" Hadji asked. "Since you suggest I have the correct 'soul' but am not in this role for any Sentinels."

"I do not know. Do not have Nyineng yet. When Sentinel find Nyineng and spirits join, then both journey with shaman into jungle for many weeks. When return, can do many things. Dream together, connected by hearts, Sentinel senses stronger around Nyineng. Nyineng becomes shaman for Sentinel." Jaga looked at Hadji critically. "You already mostly shaman, more than most Nyineng. Not know how different until you become full Nyineng."

"You're suggesting there's a whole additional training period for Sentinels after they find their partner, akin to becoming a shaman. And if Jim and I went through that, it would improve his senses? That is so cool!" Then Blair sobered. "Oh man."

"What is it?" Hadji looked at him in concern.

"I bet you anything that Sunshine and his people don't know about this."

"That is a good thing, then, to my way of thinking," Hadji said stoutly. "The less truth they possess, the better."

"Yeah, I get that," Blair nodded. "But if they figure out that we aren't telling them something…"

"How could they figure it out?" Hadji asked reasonably. "As you said, they've never seen any information about a Sentinel working with a Nyineng and they have no way to know the difference. Even you yourself have not completed the mystical work to solidify your role as such. From what we have learned, it appears I am the closest thing to it we have. So unless I begin to serve as Nyineng for Jaga, they will have no frame of reference for such a thing."

"And even if somehow they did know about Nyinengs, they haven't asked about it yet so they probably don't think it's possible, or maybe it isn't even important to them. They haven't asked us anything about _any_ of the spiritual aspects of being a Sentinel, not once. It's all hard data." Blair dropped back to his place. "They're so caught up in treating us like rats in a lab they've forgotten that even rats know how to dream."

"Jaga, what does 'Nyineng' translate to?" Hadji asked curiously.

"Word in many languages, only matters in one," he answered. "Person who sees or watches the path ahead to know the way."

"A guide," Blair said. "I know I've seen that term used before. And it's true that I've spent years guiding Jim through his senses, through zone-outs, and Incacha guided him through a lot of the mystical stuff, too."

"If the term is already known," Hadji suggested, "then perhaps we should say Guide when we mean Nyineng, to ensure they do not gather more meaning from it than they should."

"Good idea," Jaga nodded. "Nyineng is sacred. Guide is sacred. Not for them."

"So do all Sentinels seek out a Guide like Jim has me?" Blair asked.

"Yes," Jaga nodded firmly. "Sentinel can live and die alone, but not want to. Like man and woman create child, Sentinel and Guide together create great power."

Jaga suddenly tensed and Hadji at once moved to his side, sharp eyes taking everything in at once. "The cloths are too dry. Lie down, my friend." He carefully drew the gauze away from Jaga's back and with infinite gentleness lifted each of the soothing but sticky cloths until the skin was exposed. "Blair, you were correct. This is more like a sunburn now. With Jaga's usual strength, it should be healed by morning." He scooped up the cloths. "I'll just go get these wet again and I'll bring the honey with me as well."

As he left the room, Blair's eyes fell on Jaga. The young Sentinel was watching Hadji intently, a blaze in his dark eyes. He mentally reviewed their time together, noting particularly how tactile Jaga was with Hadji and how Hadji seemed to respond similarly. Not knowing Hadji before, he couldn't say if his friend was a touchy person by nature – but he'd guess he wasn't. That meant Jaga was different to him somehow.

_Hmm_, Blair thought to himself. _I wonder_.

-==OOO==-

It took Jonny and Jessie's program until just before dawn to narrow down their search enough to find what they were looking for. By tracing tenuous connections through shell corporations and false identities, eventually the relentless computer network zeroed in on a parcel of land purchased a few years prior in the Bay of Brunei. In particular, an island that was right on the border with the nations that ringed the bay, making its actual nationality uncertain at best. Two hours later, Race and Jim were standing on a dock peering across the water at it.

"Just out of curiosity," Jim remarked, smirking slightly at Race's need for binoculars, "shouldn't we alert the proper authorities?"

"Don't pull that with me," Race returned. "You know as well as I do that there's nobody to trust out here. If the government of Brunei is connected, who's to say who else is? The closest Naval base is in Singapore, but I don't have any friends out there that could keep something like this quiet, so that's just going to make a lot of noise we don't want. But believe me," his face hardened and his voice went steely, "the minute we get out of here, I'm making sure _somebody_ hears about this."

Jim froze, but Race shook his head. "No, not you. Don't worry. Nobody has to hear anything about Sentinels to know Benton got himself kidnapped again. Heck, most times Benton gets snatched we can't even report the real reason why. Comes with the national security territory."

Jim relaxed fractionally and nodded. Then, he looked sideways. "Navy? You a squid?"

That earned him a warning frown. "I was a _SEAL_, thank you very much." Then he tipped his head. "Army Ranger, right?" He began to smile slowly. "I'd start the pissing contest right now, but if Benton hears I've taught Jonny any more new ways to insult soldiers he'll skin me alive."

That earned a laugh from Jim. "Tell you what. We can save it for the Army-Navy game. Jonny doesn't seem a football type of guy to me. But don't think I don't have some really good ones saved up for you."

"I wouldn't doubt it," Race confirmed. Then he sobered. "Is this going to be a problem for you, Ellison? We're basically invading private property, breaking domestic and international law, and we might have to do worse to get our people out. Are you sure you want to walk in there?"

"I'm sure." Jim squared his shoulders. "I've been a cop long enough to know that sometimes the rules have to bend if you're going to save lives. But it's not just that. Sandburg's my partner and my best friend. Every time things got hot, I'd tell him to stay in the truck. You wanna guess how many times he actually did?"

"If he's anything like the rest of my family, I'd say close to none," Race answered.

"Exactly. Not because he wasn't in way over his head or because he had a clue what he was doing. He came to back me up, no matter what. It didn't matter that he was the civilian. It didn't matter that he didn't have a gun or the training. He came because he thought I needed him." Jim looked back over the water to the building he could see clearly with his Sentinel sight. "I'm not staying in the truck this time, either."

"Good."

After a few moments of quiet, Jim glanced to Race. "What about the kids?"

"I'd leave them if I thought I could," Race said, and there was tension in his voice. "But there's no way they'll stay here. When Jonny was little, he used to trust me to get his dad out of trouble okay and he and Hadji could hang back and wait. But those three kids are a real team now. Where one goes, they all go, no matter what. If it was just Benton in there, Jonny and Jessie might be okay playing support out here. _Might_." He sighed. "They think they're as good as trained agents, and the trouble is that a lot of the time they're right."

Jim thought of Sandburg. "I know something about that."

-==OOO==-

Blair, Hadji, and Jaga emerged from the quiet room for dinner, keeping Jaga's back bandaged and pulling one of the loose shirts they'd been given over top to hide the true extent of the injuries' healing. Reporting on their findings to Sunshine was stilted and uncomfortable, not only because they had less to report than usual, but because they had something new to hide. Blair and Hadji were both acutely aware of every word they spoke, and so they were more clinical than usual. Even Sunshine commented on it.

"At last you look and sound the part," he'd said, gesturing towards them. "Obviously the only thing holding you back from true objectivity was that stupid vest."

"That stupid vest" had been Hadji's, a multi-pocketed, beige army jerkin he'd been wearing when they were taken out of the jungle. All three men had slowly been forced to relinquish their former clothing and adopt what had been provided – sweatpants and scrubs mostly – without any way to wash their own things. They all had thin tennis shoes but no socks, and a seemingly endless pile of functional if totally flimsy attire like what one would expect in a hospital or mental institution. Hadji had stubbornly worn his vest through it all, in spite of the stains and smell of its journey. But the vest was still sticky with honey, so Hadji had left it behind.

Hadji said nothing at the dig and Blair simply rolled his eyes and continued, but beneath the table he touched his foot to Hadji's. It was subtle conditioning to slowly allow the real world outside this lab to fall away, forgotten until they were little better than the proverbial rats in the maze. Blair knew too much psychology not to know that if they didn't get out of this routine and this place soon, they might stop thinking about escape. If they lost their identities, their sense of self and their lives beyond these white, unending walls, they might not get them back.

That worry increased when their silent visit with Benton Quest was permitted. In a strange and alarming change since their last view of him, Benton looked absolutely horrible, ragged in appearance and in action. His beard was untrimmed, his clothing rumpled, the sweatpants hanging from his waist awkwardly. There was certainly clear relief and gladness in his face at seeing his son and Blair unharmed, but he looked just so…miserable.

Hadji, of course, was more than worried at the sight of his adoptive father. He made a few sharp gestures, unfamiliar to Blair, and Doctor Quest returned them tiredly. Then he began to mime something, Hadji miming in return as he interpreted the meanings of the motions. When the video feed was cut at last, Hadji stalked back to the quiet room, shoulders held high and tense.

"What is it?" Blair asked as soon as the three of them were in the room and the door was shut.

"I do not understand all of what he wanted me to know," Hadji admitted, sitting on the pallet that was his and looking like he wanted nothing more than to hide under it. Jaga paused for a moment before settling himself between Hadji and the door. When the Indian went silent, it was Jaga who touched his shoulder gently to urge him on.

Blair noted it, but didn't say anything, taking his own place on the other pallet across from Hadji.

"If I am correctly interpreting Doctor Quest's references," the young man said, his usually even voice touched with a tremor, "he was roused from sleep in the middle of last night to continue his work. He believes he has completed his task, and the rush seems to be due to a desire by our captors to remove him from the premises quite soon." He closed his eyes. "I believe Doctor Quest has been doing more research than that which has been set to him, and tomorrow he will be rewarded for it."

"Those bastards!" Blair cursed. "Well, if they sell him off to the highest bidder, they're not getting any more cooperation from me!"

"I agree," Jaga said solidly. "Sang Beruang, does he believe they come to kill him?"

"No," Hadji shook his head. "It's like Blair says. They're going to sell him to somebody." Hadji rose from his place on shaky legs. "If you will excuse me."

He ducked out the door before either man could stop him. Aware that he was being monitored, Hadji wandered the hallways of the windowless prison seemingly aimlessly, but he was not aimless at all. After passing the same door several times, he entered the gymnasium-like room. He breathed out long and slow before taking up a repetitive task of pushups as though working off nervous tension. It was not out of character for any of them – all three had at times needed a physical release from the stress of their situation. However, after several minutes, Hadji's patience snapped.

In the back of his mind, Hadji knew Jonny or Race would have thrown their bodies against a punching bag or even the wall, slamming it over and over again until their hands bled. What he chose was no less brutal, if a bit less violent: Hadji began pushing himself through a demanding kata, driving his fists and feet as though the air was the enemy that confined him. He did not move on from the form, repeating it again and again, faster and faster until he was a blur of motion – precise and dangerous.

But his foot slipped and Hadji found himself careening to the floor. And in that moment of frenzied momentum, he found he didn't care very much at all.

Hadji blinked his eyes to find that his head had not hit the hard floor beneath him; instead, Jaga was there having eased Hadji to the ground mid-fall and catching his head in his lap. The Sentinel looked down at Hadji with dark, troubled eyes.

Hadji opened his mouth to apologize, to pull back his detached, unruffled defenses, but Jaga shook his head once sharply. He stopped.

Jaga said nothing, simply remained with his feet under him and Hadji's head held on his lap, eyes fixed on the young man. Hadji stared unseeingly at the ceiling, his body aching from his exertion and his repressed fear and pain. Even if there had not been cameras, Hadji could not have even attempted to speak to the wealth of fear coursing through him, fear for his father, fear for himself, fear for the rest of their family who had not yet come for them. And now it would be too late.

Hadji met his desolation with silence and stillness, but he allowed Jaga to see it happen.

-==OOO==-

"So," Race wrapped up, "with the stuff Jonny and Jessie hacked from I don't even want to know where, we've got a pretty good idea of the layout of the place. If we gave it another day, we could get even more intel. But that would be one more day for them inside."

He looked around, pinning the other three in his blue gaze. "I want opinions from all of you."

"All we've got are blueprints," Jessie said first, "and that's because we took them from the government. We don't know anything about what's inside there. It seems stupid to go in when we are practically blind."

"Even me," Jim said slowly. "Every window facing this direction is covered, and when I try to listen out there I get a lot of blank nothing. The only time I've ever seen that before is somebody using a white noise generator. I might get more once we're inside, and I'll have my other senses to go by, too."

"I vote we go now!" Jonny declared, eyes flashing. "They've been in there for a _week_. We don't even know if those people are feeding them!"

"Everything points to them wanting to keep everyone alive," Jessie said, even if her face was not nearly as composed and rational as her words – she was clearly worried to the bone as well, if better at controlling it.

Suddenly Jim shivered, flinching visibly.

"You okay?" Race was quick to ask.

"Yeah, fine," he replied, shaking his head to clear it. But then he stopped. "You remember how I told you at the beginning that I get good hunches sometimes?"

Race nodded, waiting.

"I'm getting one," Jim said, feeling the dread build as he gave it voice. "I think if we wait one more day, we'll regret it."

"Good enough for me," Race said decisively. He looked at Jonny, fierce and eager; at Jessie, her own eyes flashing with her legendary protective spirit; at Jim, whose face could give granite a run for its money in sheer solidity. Race's own gut had been acting on him, too. Even if his brain might agree with Jessie's point, everything else was screaming otherwise.

"Everybody get some rest," he ordered. "We move out at oh-two-hundred. We're bringing them home _tonight_."


	8. Chapter 8

As it turned out, the plan was a simple one. Race was able to procure a small boat, nearly silent, by flashing some money (and again Jim was grateful that he wasn't footing the bill for this expedition). Jonny had been concerned that, if their enemies already knew about Sentinels, perhaps they would have one standing guard, but Jim pointed out that if that were the case the Sentinel would already have spotted them watching the place all day. After all, he could easily focus his vision to count the stories and watch what little activity there was from their dock on the mainland. They'd just have to take their chances.

There was a small dock on the east side of the island, but from what Jim could see almost no traffic ever entered there – in the day they'd watched, the only activity had been by helicopter on the roof. The entire plan seemed to consist of steering the boat to the dock and breaking in however they could when they got there. Jim was fairly certain it was one of the more harebrained schemes to which he had ever been a participant, but what else was there? Jessie and Jonny had done their best to hack the computers at the location, but they had gained very little. From outside, Jim had no way of saying how many people were in there or where their friends were being held. They would not learn anything from here.

Still, the silent preparation undertaken was both comforting and profoundly disturbing for the detective. On the one hand, watching his team suit up in black, sturdy clothing, don a smear of paint across the face, and check armaments was very much in line with his life as a Ranger and in the police. But it was still unsettling to see two seventeen-year-old kids so familiar with the process. Jessie braided her red hair tightly and accepted the pan of mud from Jonny who was already dumping the stuff over his bright blond hair to camouflage its color. Race did the same – only Jim had dark enough hair that the mud wouldn't give him much. Jim remembered some twenty-year-old recruits without as much familiarity with the preparations that seemed to be second-nature to Jessie and Jonny.

Race caught his expression and shrugged a little helplessly. Jim shook his head, trying to tell himself to trust the man who knew them better than he did. If it were up to him, they would be handcuffed in a room somewhere, not on the front lines. And Sandburg would be right with them most of the time.

"Protective instincts," Jim could almost hear Blair's voice in his head.

"When we get in there," Race began as he pulled on a close-fitting backpack, "we've got to locate the others as quickly as possible. No heroics," he pinned Jonny and Jessie with an icy glare. "This is like breaking into a prison to get out some inmates, so we have to expect the highest level of security."

"I can help with that," Jim put in. "Not only can I hear guards coming, but I can usually hear things like motion sensors and cameras. No guarantees, but I'll do my best."

"Good," Race nodded sharply. "We've got a couple of techie tricks, too, but they'll expose us as soon as any good security team spots them. I'd rather do this quietly."

"Dad?" Jessie was packing a bag of her own. "Don't you think we should also try to get into the computer system while we're in there?"

"Why?"

"We need to know what they know about Sentinels," she answered. "Of course our first priority is Doctor Quest and Hadji and Mister Sandburg, but this is important, too." She looked sideways at Jim. "If we don't know why they took your friend, we don't know that they won't come back for him again."

Jim and Race exchanged looks. "She's right, of course," Race said with a sigh.

"Wait," Jonny spoke up. "We don't need to hack it. That'll take too long. We just need to introduce the Quest network to the system and initiate a secured sync. Then, short of blowing our satellite out of orbit, even destroying the building won't be enough to stop us from pulling the files later."

"You're right," Jessie's face brightened. "And I have just the thing." She dug in her luggage for a moment before producing a pair of small pair of computer parts.

Jim glanced at Race who shrugged. "What are they?"

"They're external linkups for the network," she explained. "Doctor Quest asked me to bring them in case he needed to get access to the Quest system from a different computer. Jonny and I can code them to connect the entire building's systems to the Quest network without giving them access to our files. If we plug them in in different places, we'll probably get the whole thing."

"And we can rig them to burn out after they make the connection," Jonny added.

Jim and Race were getting very good at non-verbal communication. Of course, it helped that both men were very similar in a large number of respects. So the look they exchanged this time was eloquent in its simplicity: _I feel like I don't know nearly enough about computers to argue, and that sounds good, so okay_.

"Right," Race just nodded. "Each of you take one, then, in case we get separated. Plant them and leave them, right?"

"Yup," Jessie nodded, hooking them up to her laptop for some final adjustments.

"Two birds with two computer stones, then," Jim made himself quip.

But inside he was wound tight and getting more tense by the minute. There were just too many unknowns. Was Race as good as he seemed? Would Jessie and Jonny really be okay? Was Blair okay? How many floors would they have to try before they found him? What would they do if they couldn't get out again? The questions circled and circled.

_Stop it_, he firmly ordered himself. _Remember jumping into the Peruvian jungle with nothing but a backpack to find Simon? How about taking on the entire Sunrise Patriot group in a fortified building – twice? This time is not worse than those_. But something about the fact that his Sentinel status was known made it so much worse. These were people who might know how to stop him. They'd already used white noise generators. _What else won't I expect that will get us killed_?

Before he knew it, Jim was in the bow of the boat keeping an eye out while Race steered them towards their destination.

The night smelled of the same thick air that was common in this tropical part of the world, in spite of the cooler, salty breeze of the ocean. Jim's senses were stretched as far as he dared, listening, watching, alert to any change in the air. Behind him, three hearts beat with a steady if quick staccato, and he was gratified that the kids were as collected as Race.

At the dock of the island, they concealed the boat as quickly as they could, opting for stealth over speed. Thankfully, part of the dock had begun to collapse and the small speedboat fit concealed beneath it. Then they were across the low underbrush to the loading dock of the building. Jim smiled as his Sentinel sight showed him the keypad lock. He held up one hand for patience while running the pads of his fingers over the keys. Tiny, barely perceptible differences made it clear which keys had been struck more often, and there was an angle to the depressions that suggested a finger would push one, then slide off to the next, giving him a good guess at the order of digits. He inputted the code.

The door unlocked almost silently and he nodded at the others. They slid through and immediately ducked out of the center of the large loading area, taking shelter behind some crates stacked high. Race ducked low so his cheeks were pressed against Jonny and Jessie and he whispered as soft as breathing, knowing that Jim could hear it.

"What have you got?"

Jim closed his eyes to let his senses guide him. He realized at once that his hearing could detect a great deal in the space. Apparently the white noise generators were pointed to the outside – now that he was clear of them, he was able to listen beyond their silence. He leaned in until he was almost forehead-to-forehead with Race to describe things as they came to him.

"No one in here. A few on this level, more above. I can't pick out Sandburg yet – he'll have to start talking. But I hear someone yelling about Doctor Quest down two...no, three levels." He paused. "No, he's yelling _at_ Doctor Quest. I can hear Quest answering him."

Race let out a long breath. "Can you tell us exactly where to find him?"

"Yes," Jim confirmed.

"Then we have to split up," Race said in a fierce whisper. "Only Jim can find the others if they aren't with him, and we don't have the time to wander all over. Okay. Jonny, you come with me. Your dad won't be happy if I send you off with somebody he's never met. Jessie, stay with Jim. Do your computer thing and make sure everybody gets out of here in one piece."

Race looked into Jim's eyes with a blaze that was so potent the Sentinel wondered if he had been burned by it. He nodded once against Race's head. _Yes, I understand. I'll protect your daughter, I promise_.

"Meet at the boat. Jim, if we get into trouble, we'll yell. If you get into trouble..."

"I'll make sure you know about it," Jessie cut in. "Don't worry, dad."

"It's what I do, Ponchita," he squeezed her shoulder tightly. "Jim, how do we get where we're going?"

-==OOO==-

Benton was exhausted. He'd been awake for more than 24 hours and his patience was gone. It didn't help that he'd been trading arguments with this same scientist for most of the night. The man had appeared after his nightly talk with Hadji and the others and demanded to understand everything about Benton's work in the lab to date. _Everything_.

"Look," he found himself snapping. "What exactly did you expect to happen when you based your compound on chemicals that are designed to cause brain damage? Of _course_ it wouldn't be good for the person you were dosing!"

"But you overcame it?" the man demanded for what seemed like the fiftieth time.

"Eventually," Benton sighed, running a hand through his hair. "But the drug can't possibly work exactly like it used to. I had to change it too much."

The man was about to start up his ranting again when there was a loud bang from outside the door.

"What's going on?" he demanded, stomping over.

Benton's exhaustion vanished. He'd been here too long without a hitch to think this was anything routine. And if he knew his best friend and bodyguard as well as he thought he did, breaking up the routine would be high on Race's list of things to do if he found his way in.

A moment later, a loud alarm sounded throughout the building.

-==OOO==-

"What's that?" Blair practically leaped out of his pallet in surprise. Even the quiet room couldn't keep out the volume of that screaming klaxon.

"I believe," Hadji rose quickly, "that is our rescue."

Blair grinned incandescently. "Then let's get going!" The pair quickly scooped up their belongings from their always-ready piles, and almost simultaneously they reached to their pile of supplies and fetched a bottle of water each as well. The baggy sweatpants had wide pockets, so they stowed their things with hands made shaky from relief and excitement.

In the hall, Jaga was standing stiffly, clutching his hands tightly. Hadji moved to his side at once.

"Push the waters back, my friend," he said. "Let the sound wash over you but not trouble you as the wind over a stone."

Jaga relaxed and nodded.

"Now to get out of here," Blair said. Then, realizing, he took a deep breath and started to yell. "Hey! Jim! We're up here! Me and Hadji and Jaga are here and Doctor Quest is somewhere else. We're here, Jim!"

-==OOO==-

"I hear him," Jim said under his breath to Jessie as they slipped through a stairwell. "Three stories up."

"Oh, good," she nodded.

But before they had reached the next landing, Jim ducked into a nearby door, pulling the girl with him. They just barely evaded a pair of guards running down the stairs to the source of the noise.

"Are my dad and Jonny still okay?" she whispered.

"Yes," Jim told her. "Sounds like Race is fighting and Jonny's working on a lock."

Jessie nodded. She gestured to go back into the stairwell, but Jim shook his head. Instead, he led her down a hallway to a locked room. This time, he simply kicked the door in.

"What's in here?" she asked.

Jim grinned and laid a finger alongside his nose. "Something that will get us to the others a lot faster."

He hefted the bricks whose scent he had learned one too many times to forget.

-==OOO==-

"He's down! How's the door coming, kid?" Race called as he carted an unconscious body to a nearby corner.

"Almost got it! But I'm pretty sure we're going to have company as soon as we get in there," Jonny reported. "Also, I dropped off my little surprise for the base's computer systems while I was at it. Jessie just has to plant hers."

Race hefted the handgun he'd taken off the guard at the door to where Benton was being held. He wasn't usually forced to take lethal action, but that didn't mean he wasn't prepared to do so if he had to. He'd shoot to injure given the choice, but he'd shoot to kill before he'd let his family be hurt.

"When we get in there, you get to your dad. I'll handle anybody else, okay?"

"Got it, Race," Jonny saluted with a grin.

-==OOO==-

Jaga froze. "I hear someone speaking to us," he said, eyebrow raised.

Blair exchanged a grin with Hadji. "What are they saying?"

"Says, 'Stand back, Chief. We're making a door in your floor.'" Jaga smiled, too. "We should move."

"I agree fully," Hadji said, already retreating.

"Counting," Jaga replied. Then he began to join the countdown. "Six…five…four…three…two…one."

There was a reverberating crash that was almost a "pop" more than a "boom." But the crack of the floor and the subsequent rumble of falling debris was loud enough to compensate. The floor was still crumbling when a voice was bellowing, "_Sandburg_! Can you hear me!?"

"Jim!" Blair's smile was wide as he rushed forward, Jaga and Hadji at his heels. "It's about time, man!"

"Sorry we're late!" called a cheerful voice. Hadji outpaced Blair and peered down through the hole in the floor.

"Jessie, the sunrise itself is not a more welcome sight than you," he said warmly as he met her worried eyes.

"Get down here, you three," Jim ordered. He was standing on top of some of the debris, reaching upward. His sharp blue eyes tracked over the three, his jaw relaxing fractionally when he confirmed that no one was hurt.

Blair didn't need to be told twice. With a glance to the other two, he turned and began sticking a foot down into the space below. Hadji grabbed an arm to steady him, and Jaga planted himself next to the Indian in case both were to lose their footing. Jim reached up to brace the bottom of Blair's foot with his palm. With a glance at Hadji and a deep breath, Blair let himself drop, Jim slowing his descent from above and catching him around the waist.

"Thanks, man," Blair gasped. For good measure, he gripped Jim's arm.

"You are _never_ going _anywhere_ again without either me or a team of Marines to keep you out of trouble," Jim glared at him. But the hand on Blair's shoulder spoke the words the Sentinel couldn't quite form. Still, he couldn't keep himself from opening all of his senses a few clicks wider, running them over his partner to make _absolutely_ _sure_ he was all right. Affirming to himself that he was _here_. That he had not been lost or taken away.

"Jim! Eli – my friend who came with me, remember? – he went into the river trying to escape. Did you find him?"

"He's safe," Jim soothed. "Already on the way home thanks to our new friends."

"Thank god," Blair sagged against Jim as relief washed over him.

"You next," Jaga said softly from above, touching Hadji's shoulder. Hadji nodded and sat on the floor, letting his legs dangle. Jaga took both his hands and held them tightly.

"Look out below," Hadji called cheerfully. Then he pushed off, Jaga steadying him in the air for a moment before releasing him. Jim put out an arm to help, but Hadji landed himself in a crouch in spite of the debris, springing into a roll and coming up at Jessie's side. She threw her arms around him and he returned the embrace. "I never doubted you would find us. Where are the others?" he asked.

"Rescuing Doctor Quest," Jessie answered. "We'll meet them outside."

Jessie was about to say something else, but her breath hitched unexpectedly. Hadji turned around to see what had alarmed her so, assuming if it were the approach of any guards that Detective Ellison and Jaga would have said something much sooner.

Jaga had leaped through the hole and the two Sentinels were facing one another with expressions of challenge and aggression.

"Easy guys," Blair was saying, stretching an arm to Jaga while he remained at Jim's side. "Jim, this is Jaga and he's our friend. You're both Sentinels, so, yeah, territorial imperatives and all, but you need to get along." The nervousness in his voice was thick.

Jim already knew at every level that this was a Sentinel and he didn't need Sandburg to tell him so; it was instinctive, carnal. He remembered Alex Barnes and how any time he'd been in her presence he'd both wanted to fight her and wanted to mate with her. And his dreams of her had been no less intense. This, though, this was different somehow and it didn't have anything to do with Jaga's gender. He wanted…he wasn't sure what he wanted, but it wasn't that. Jim could feel and hear Blair breathing behind him, could sense the warmth of his friend with stunning clarity. He felt his face split into a snarl as Blair's words and grip on his arms faded from significance. This younger Sentinel was in _his_ space near what was _his_ alone. Nothing else mattered.

The other Sentinel's expression was closed, and he was struggling to remain impassive. Jim could see every twitch of his skin as he fought the clear answering snarl that was breaking from his surface calm. There was a scent in the air that made Jim push Blair even more completely behind him and raise an arm cocked for a punch.

"Please."

The voice was so soft and so distressed it broke Jim's concentration for a moment. Hadji Quest appeared at Jaga's side and put a brown hand on his shoulder. The younger Sentinel trembled at the touch as though he'd been doused in ice water. Then, with a blazing look straight into Jim's eyes, he swallowed thickly and tipped his head to one side, exposing his throat. Jaga dropped his gaze to the floor and put his hands behind his back, waiting.

He didn't know he was going to do it. Jim stepped forward quickly, almost in a sprint, and laid his hand on the curve of the younger Sentinel's throat. He could feel the pulse, as elevated as his own, racing under his fingers. He could smell the scent of the jungle, of strength, of youth and aggression on him. Jim shifted until his thumb rested on Jaga's windpipe and the rest of his hand curled around his throat. He exerted the tiniest amount of pressure.

"You cross me and I will kill you," he found himself growling.

"I understand," the young Sentinel answered, still not meeting Jim's gaze.

And just like that, the impulse left him and Jim stepped back, surprised at himself. Jaga waited a moment before straightening up, all belligerence gone from his stance. He looked to where he had shaken Hadji off at Jim's sudden approach and touched his elbow with a nod.

Blair found his voice first. "Well, as dominance displays go, that was pretty easy."

"Yeah," Jim answered. He didn't entirely understand his own actions, but on some level they _felt_ right. He'd seen pack hierarchy established in military units and police departments and gangs before, even if he hadn't been as quick to name it that way until Sandburg came along with all his chatter about it. He supposed it made sense Sentinels would need that sort of organization, too, if they were going to coexist in the same space. He wouldn't say he felt particularly protective or bound to Jaga in any way, but he had accepted him almost as a subordinate. Not an equal and not a threat, but a temporary part of the unit. He could work with that.

Shaking off the interaction, he turned his attention to the other new face; Hadji was still regarding Jaga with worry that echoed Sandburg's usual posture. He smiled at him. "You must be Hadji. I've heard a lot about you from Jessie and Jonny and Race," he said, trying to put the young man at ease.

"As I have of you, Detective Ellison," Hadji replied, his furrowed worry melting in the face of his politeness.

"Call me Jim." He nodded at Jaga to include him in that as well. "Now, come on. We've got to get moving, and we've got one more stop before we're in the clear."

"Where are we going, Jim?" Blair asked, scrambling down from the pile of debris and settling at Jim's side as they began to make their way out of the empty office in which they had landed.

It was Jessie who answered with a wicked smile. "This place has such a vast library, it would be a shame not to borrow a few things."

"And by borrow, I presume you mean it the way Jonny does: take without any intention whatsoever of returning?" Hadji raised an eyebrow.

"Of course," Jessie blinked back with false innocence. "Or, more accurately, we'll just make a whole bunch of copies really fast and they can do whatever they want with whatever survives the nasty virus that comes with our copier."

-==OOO==-

Race kicked in the door with more force than was strictly necessary, but it helped him take out one of his waiting opponents when the door-handle sank deep into the man's gut and he doubled over in pain. At once, the other guards in the room charged towards the intruder. Race punched a clear path for Jonny to sprint through.

"Dad, are you okay?" he called as he ducked around the tables and pieces of equipment to where his father had hit the only guy within his own reach with the first thing that had come to hand.

Unfortunately, that thing was only a clipboard, and the scientist who had been interrogating Benton was only stunned, not knocked out. A fact which escaped Doctor Quest until Jonny had already jumped over the man and was almost within reach of his father who waited anxiously at the end of the tether that bound him.

Race dispatched the last of the guards and was grabbing for the keyring one carried when a sudden motion caught his attention out the corner of his eye.

"Jonny, look out!"

Race's warning came too late. Jonny was turning and didn't quite see the man until he was practically on top of him. With the quick reflexes he'd developed over years of fights, though, Jonny brought up an arm to block the punch aimed at his nose. The scientist tried a few more blows before he simply threw himself at Jonny and brought them both down in a tangle of limbs.

"Race, he's got the solution!" Benton shouted, panic clear in his voice.

Sickeningly, Race guessed what was going to happen and he couldn't stop it. He raised his gun and fired once, but the man had already plunged the hypodermic needle deep into Jonny's thigh.

"Ow!" Jonny cried out in surprise. A heartbeat later and the man fell dead onto his stomach.

"Jonny!" Benton pulled at the chain helplessly. "Pull it out!"

"It's too late, pop," Jonny said shakily, crawling out from under the dead scientist and yanking the needle from his flesh roughly. "It's already empty."

"What was in that thing, Benton?" Race demanded, even as he finally navigated the tables and obstacles throughout the room and got to where he could unlock Doctor Quest's ankle from the chain. Benton never hesitated – the instant he was free to move, he raced for his son and grabbed his shoulders.

"It's going to be okay, son," he said sharply, but he wasn't convincing either of them.

"Is it poison?" Jonny asked in a smaller voice.

"No! No, that was what they had me working on," Benton shook his head. "I had to make it non-lethal, but still effective. It wasn't easy."

"Then what will it do to him?" Race stepped up, looking critically down at the boy. Jonny's skin was getting pale and he could see sweat breaking out on his brow. His blue eyes were beginning to dilate.

"It's…it's meant to induce Sentinel abilities."

"Are you serious, Benton?" Race almost yelled.

"It hasn't been tested yet! And it's only supposed to work on someone who has the genetic markers for it," Benton shook his head. "The problem they needed to solve was how to get a Sentinel without relying on barest chance. The Sentinel's abilities are only partly because of a genetic advantage. They decided to create a drug to simulate the rest and jump-start the process."

"So what will happen to me?" Jonny asked, and there was something careful in how he controlled his words that sent a pang of fear into both men.

"I don't know, son. It won't kill you, I promise you that. But…it's very dangerous and it's never gone into a live subject before. I just don't know what it will do exactly."

Suddenly Jonny's knees went limp, and if it hadn't been for the grip his father had of his shoulders he'd have dropped. His head started to swim and he felt like throwing up.

"Huh. Works pretty fast, dad," Jonny managed with a reckless grin.

And then there was nothing but pain.

-==OOO==-

Jaga and Jim both flinched at exactly the same moment.

"What is it?" Blair asked, putting a hand on Jim's arm.

"Jonny," Jim shook his head to clear it. "Something's happened. He's screaming."

Blair poked Jim _hard_. The Sentinel glared at him until he followed Blair's line of sight to Hadji. The Indian had gone pale like death and his hands were shaking. Jim reached out to him.

"Doctor Quest and Race are with him," he said, trying to soften the blow of his unthinking words. "I'm sure they'll take care of him."

"Breathe, Sang Beruang," Jaga said, suddenly slipping up behind Hadji and folding an arm around his chest. "Your brother is strong. His scream is pain but not death. His protectors care for him. We join them quickly."

"You're right," Hadji leaned back into the embrace gratefully. He swallowed hard and looked up at Jim and Blair. "Please, lead on. The sooner we are safe, the sooner Jonny will be safe."

Jessie had been occupied at a computer terminal as she set her own device to working, but now she returned, eyes blazing. The look she levied on Jaga was part surprise, part warning, but instead of wasting time, she turned to Jim.

"Anybody coming this way?"

"Not yet," he shook his head. "That little trail of explosions upstairs will keep them busy a while longer."

"Then let's hurry," Blair said.

Jim led the group unerringly to a stairwell. They did meet a pair of soldiers on their way, but by now Jim's blood was up and he was almost vibrating with an immense desire to take back whatever had been done to his friends by these people. When Jim was done with them, both soldiers would wake up someday, but they would be very sorry they did.

The loading dock was not deserted as it had been, but Jim was prepared for that. He took one of the small blocks of explosive he had liberated earlier and affixed a blasting cap. He tossed it into the center of the room and started counting loudly backwards from ten. Before he'd even hit "four" the room was emptied and people were shouting and taking cover.

"But you didn't have a trigger?" Blair asked. Jim grinned.

"And I didn't need one, did I?"

But his smile fell apart moments later when Race and Benton Quest appeared at another door, carrying Jonny between them. The young man was as red as if he'd run a marathon, and breathing heavily. Jim listened to his heartbeat and was deeply concerned to hear it fluttering erratically.

"What happened?" Hadji broke from the others and raced for his brother.

"Later," Race said tightly. He looked up to where Jim was still holding a gun he'd acquired and was covering the group. "Get us clear, Ellison."

Jim looked at all the faces around him. Benton – white with fear for his son. Hadji – trying to remain composed and failing almost completely. Jessie was only holding it together marginally better. Blair looked wide-eyed and scared but still relatively calm. Race was stoic and steady, but from his expression Jim knew he'd need a case of C4 to get the man to move an inch from the boy he was currently supporting.

Jim turned to Jaga. "Take point and follow our scent to the boat. Anything comes near, get rid of it."

Jaga glanced at the others and nodded sharply. "I understand, Sang Sentinel."

Jim shoved Blair almost on Jaga's heels, Race and Benton with Jonny next and Jessie and Hadji right in front of Jim as they crossed the open space of the loading dock and barreled through the door to the outside.

"This feels too easy," Hadji commented lowly.

"Don't say that, man!" Blair protested.

"It's easy on us because we made it tough on them," Jim explained. "Right now, whoever's in charge is screaming at the top of his lungs, but it seems he can't get out of an elevator. In fact, it seems lots of areas are locked down and the soldiers have to blast or shoot their way through each security door because the computers aren't responding."

"I see," Hadji's eyes fell on Jessie and shifted to Jonny. "I should not be surprised."

The banter was forced and it made Jim wince to hear it. He put a hand on the kid's shoulder to steady him. Ahead, Jaga had found the boat and was already tearing it free.

Suddenly Jonny gasped and went totally rigid, then passed out. Benton looked up, and Jim didn't need Sentinel sight to see his stricken expression.

"Go!" he shouted, practically throwing everyone within reach into the boat. But his hearing was locked on the strange and sluggish heartbeat and the discordant racing heartbeats of those whose fear was so much greater now than it ever had been while fighting for their lives inside.

_Hang in there, kid_, Jim prayed. _Please just hang in there_.


	9. Chapter 9

I feel like I should say something here.

So...the last few weeks have been pretty horrible to me. Depression and a death in the family do not play nicely with Mendeia's psyche. And yet, here I am. And here you are, presumably sharing in what I spent such time and effort and love to create. That, more than anything else, that connection between me and you, between hope and result, creation and reader, is a miracle I feel truly grateful to have experienced.

Especially today. Because with this chapter, I have hit a landmark. This chapter consists of my 1,000,000th word. Yup. A million published words of fanfiction (not counting all author's notes). The millionth word, by my count, is actually "footsteps." And that is completely awesome. (The first word was "My" if you're curious. So I'm bookending a million words with "My footsteps" and that ROCKS.)

So, thank you. Most of you haven't been on this ride with me for the last 11 years. You may never even have looked at the rest of my stories. But that's okay. Every one of you has contributed to the gears that have driven me forward to this point. I hope you know how amazing this is to me, that you're here, that 11 years of art and creation and expression have brought me so far. Have held me up in dark times and danced with me in the light.

So thank you for sharing this milestone with me. Thank you for being here. May the next million words serve you better than the first.

Enjoy!

* * *

><p>The cockpit of the Dragonfly was very quiet.<p>

At the stick was Race once again. Jessie was beside him as copilot, mostly relaying messages between him and the State Department. Behind them sat Jim and Blair, the latter marveling at the speed and the mind-blowing technology that was almost an afterthought to the Quest family. In the last row of seats, Hadji stared out a window sightlessly.

"I should be back there," he said after a long silence. But he was only just unbuckling his seatbelt when Jim turned and shook his head.

"Doctor Quest told us to keep an eye on you, kid," he said not unkindly. "I know you want to help your friend–"

"My brother," Hadji corrected automatically.

"But he also said he didn't want you worrying. He promised to call if he wanted another pair of hands." Jim tried to give an encouraging look.

"I could go check, if you want," Jessie offered gently.

"You say put, too, Jess," Race said. "If there's a problem, Jim will know before Benton has the chance to hit the intercom. I know it's hard," his voice softened, "but this is the best we can do."

Hadji ran a shaky hand over his face. He was trying so hard not to think about what was happening in the rear compartment.

Their escape from the island had been terrifying not because of the danger behind them, but because of Jonny's erratic and dangerous vital signs that had only gotten worse over the seemingly endless boat ride back to the mainland. Then, Race and Jim had shepherded everyone into a rented van and made a beeline for the airport. Race had barely waited for the official go-ahead from the tower before he was flinging the Dragonfly into the air and away from Brunei. While the 'Fly didn't have much in the way of medical support, at least it was secure, doubly so after a check by both Jim and Jaga. Whereas with unknown governmental actors involved in the plot, the foreign country was distinctly not safe for any of them.

Once in the air, Race had called a friend in the State Department to begin the machinations of everything from arranging for a local to pick up the belongings they'd left behind in the jungle – everything else they'd kept either on the 'Fly or with them in the hotel and van – to acquiring an emergency visa for Jaga. They'd given him about three seconds to decide if he was coming with them or if he wanted them to find a way to get him home, but he'd shaken his head and elected to remain.

"Besides," as Blair had shrugged, "at the moment, he's in as much danger as the rest of us, and if they really wanted him back, going home is the first place they'll look for him."

But if the large helicopter had been difficult for Jaga, the Dragonfly as a state-of-the-art supersonic jet was pure torture. Only moments into the flight, he had retreated to Doctor Quest to ask for a mild sedative and allowed it to carry him into a painless, easy zone. Blair had monitored him and decided that it was definitely easier on the guy to be out of it than deal. Jim, while also bothered, at least had his noise-canceling earplugs and Blair to get him through it.

Above the earplugs, though, Jim was listening to Jonny. It was the least he could do. He wasn't entirely sure what had happened to the kid, and Race and Doctor Quest weren't talking. But he didn't need to be a Sentinel to know the terror that was only barely under the scientist's iron control as he employed his medical knowledge to stabilize his son.

"State says we're go for Jaga's papers," Jessie reported. "And Bob says you owe him a favor and a beer now."

"More than one," Race nodded. "Tell him thanks for me. We'll pick up fuel in Hawaii, where we can also decide if Jonny needs a hospital now or if we want to go somewhere else. Either way, I want us on US soil. I'm not usually a paranoid guy, but I've had it with the secret governments of vague doom for today."

Jim frowned slightly. "We need to get back to Cascade so we can figure all this out. We should head there. And there's a good hospital for Jonny, too."

"I think you're wrong about that," Race shook his head. "These guys wanted Sandburg. They know you and him too well. They know you'll head right back to Cascade, back to your familiar territory. If they want to get him back, they'll be looking for you there."

"He's got a point, Jim," Blair said resignedly. "These are people who know Sentinels. They know you'll feel safest protecting your tribe."

"Cascade is also where we have the most friends to watch our backs," Jim said stubbornly. "We'll be in just as much trouble if we take off to a random hotel or something in the middle of nowhere."

"The answer is obvious," Hadji put in calmly, but no one believed he was truly calm. "There is much we must learn from one another, and we are all in the same danger now. To mitigate it, we must retreat to a safe location that our adversaries cannot anticipate."

"You mean the Quest compound," Jessie tipped her head. "If it's true that they'll expect a Sentinel to go home, they won't expect to see him in Maine."

"Maine?" Blair frowned. "But Doctor Quest is based out of the Florida Keys."

"How do you know that?" Jim turned to his partner sharply.

Blair shrugged. "Everybody knows that, man. Doctor Quest is a major legend, and guys like me would give up our arms to work at his lab. Best tech in the world, an academic _god_ to mentor you, and, oh, a private island full of palm trees and warm sand? Not a hard call deciding where you'd want to spend some time."

"That's what we want people to think," Race smiled slyly. "Oh, we lived down on Palm Key for a long time, don't get me wrong. But after that address got out to one too many _unwelcome_ _guests_, we pulled up the tent stakes and went north. Benton's got a lab down there and we still drop in to keep up appearances, but that hasn't been our base for three or four years now."

"The Main compound is isolated," Jessie turned to Jim. "It's also fortified with the best security dad could get, plus everything Doctor Quest could design."

"Come on, Jim," Blair urged, leaning across the aisle and putting a hand on his friend's arm. "You know they're right. We go home now, we'll be looking over our shoulders until something's there. At least until we get everything sorted out with Jonny, let's keep our heads down."

Jim's gaze was hard but he nodded curtly. There was no denying the logic of it, even if some part of him was already pacing in frustration. "Fine. But I'm letting Simon know where we are," he said firmly. "He needs a heads-up anyway to watch out for these guys if they come sniffing around town."

"Sure," Race shrugged. "Call him from here. You mentioned he's your captain? I wouldn't mind another good man with a strong right arm at our backs in this. If he wants to come out, we'll buy the ticket."

Jim and Blair exchanged a look as they absorbed that information. "You'd trust him just on our say so?" Blair asked, surprised.

Jessie turned around in her seat to face them. "Hadji and Doctor Quest trusted Mister Sandburg enough to tell him Hadji is adopted. Jim helped us rescue the guys. I'd say you've earned it."

"Don't think I won't background-check him like I was leaving my daughter's soul in his hands, though," Race teased.

Blair smiled. "Call me Blair, Jessie. But really, it's Hadji and Doctor Quest who helped me out, not the other way around."

"Not true," Hadji spoke softly, his gaze back on the clouds below. "When wolves shelter together, a pack is born and not even the winter's coldest night shall drive them apart."

Jessie shrugged. "He says stuff like that. But I think he's right. We got into this mess together, and we'll have to get out of it together, too. And after being on the wrong side of a whole government, I'm with dad. The more people we can trust, the better."

Jim was about to respond when he stopped, tipping his head as he listened. A moment later, the door opened.

"Doctor Quest?" Hadji was halfway out of his chair.

"What's the story, Benton?" Race asked quickly.

Benton dropped into the last chair in the cockpit and tried to pull himself into some semblance of calm. But the pale fear in Hadji's face and the brightly frightened eyes of Jessie undid him. His shoulders slumped.

"I haven't got the equipment here to do a full analysis," he admitted lowly, "but the drug is reacting with Jonny's body chemistry and..." his voice broke.

"We're about six hours out from Hawaii," Race reported tightly. "I can stop somewhere sooner if you want."

"No, there's a lab at the University of Hawaii on Maui with an old friend I can ask for help," Benton managed. "Jonny's stable enough to get there. But..."

"Doctor Quest." Hadji's voice was soft, so soft Race and Jessie had to strain to hear him. "Father, please."

It was such a rarely-used epithet that it caught Benton's attention and he looked up to his adopted son. Hadji's face was stricken, and he was visibly struggling to maintain enough composure to speak around the fear gripping his chest.

"Please tell me what is happening to Jonny."

Benton surrendered. "The compound that was injected into him has moved into his cerebral fluid. There are changes happening on a neural level. I won't really know more until I can get him into a few different brain imagers. For now, he's completely unresponsive."

"He's in a coma?!" Blair gasped.

Benton nodded miserably, tears tracking down his face.

Jessie gulped and climbed out of her seat, awkwardly making her way down the aisle without looking at anyone. She shoved through the door and disappeared.

"Jim," Blair whispered so low only his Sentinel could have heard. "Go after her. She needs somebody."

Jim's wide-eyed look of what-am-I-supposed-to-do-about-it would have been comical if Blair wasn't serious. He glared at his Sentinel and Jim, thankfully, decided this wasn't a fight worth winning. He rose and followed her.

"Race," Hadji said after a long moment. "Why don't you let me take over for a little while?"

Race turned with a white face to the young man who had appeared at his elbow. Hadji's grief was clearly writ in his expression, but his hands were steady and there was an aloof, stubborn set to his jaw. _He doesn't want to feel_, Race realized, _and he needs the distraction. And Benton needs somebody too and right this minute_.

"Okay, Hadj," he nodded. He waited until Hadji had settled into the co-pilot's seat before he unbuckled and flipped on the autopilot just in case. But as he passed the middle row, he leaned to where Blair sat feeling helpless. "Stay up front with him. Get him to talk if he needs it. I'll handle Benton."

Blair moved to Race's place and looked over at his friend. They both tried to ignore Race taking Doctor Quest's arm and leading him out of the cockpit to give them some privacy.

"Blair," Hadji said, his voice rough with repressed emotion, "please do not try to get me to open up. I'm flying, and my feelings would be a distraction."

"You sound like Jim," Blair said automatically. "He's all about holding it in. Fear-based responses."

"My fear is not a fear of being honest," Hadji replied. "But were I to be honest, there would be no one to handle the Dragonfly."

"Would you believe me if I told you I flew Apaches in Desert Storm?" Blair asked.

Hadji glanced over, a ghost of a smile somewhere in his forlorn expression. "Not for a moment, my friend."

The anthropologist huffed a laugh. "Somehow, nobody with any sense ever does. I mean, they're _right_, but still..."

"Blair, I appreciate that you wish to ease my pain. But trust me, I am not afraid to cope with the fear of losing my friend. I only wish not to do it _now_."

"Why?"

Hadji let out a breath. "My religion teaches that all things that happen are meant to happen in some fashion, that we are where we must be at all times, so that we may grow spiritually from what we experience. This tenant has given me comfort through a great many trials. But to lose my brother..." he gasped and coughed harshly through his nose to hold back anything more, "it will take me time to find the peace to deal with this productively."

"When I died," Blair found himself saying, guided more by instinct than reason, "Jim never wanted to talk about it afterwards. He still doesn't. He hates talking about anything that you can't write in a police report, actually. If you couldn't take it in front of a judge, he doesn't like it. And that goes for feelings as well as spiritual stuff."

"Does he never express his true emotions?" Hadji asked. "Or does he merely fail to express them in the moment?"

"What he expresses 'in the moment' tends to be knee-jerk defensiveness and more fear-based crap," Sandburg muttered. He vaguely wondered when this had gotten turned around on him.

"There are two types of men who live in fear," Hadji said. "The first dwells in fear so deep there is no room for a light of truth. The second also dwells in fear, but truth shines into the darkness on occasion and, while it cannot banish it entirely, it provides relief for a time. It seems to me that Jim Ellison is more this type. Perhaps he is not courageous with his heart often, but that does not mean he is not courageous _ever_."

"You could be right," Blair conceded. "Plus, there's different ways to say something, you know? Like different love languages. Me, I'm a big talker person. But Jim is more into action. Well, and deflective humor. After all that mess with the dissertation, he was able to talk to me sincerely for about half a minute before he had to retreat behind a joke."

"But you have learned to listen behind that joke, have you not?" Hadji asked. "Is it necessary for two friends to speak in the same language if both can accurately translate the other?"

"It'd be nice," Blair grumbled. Then, with real hurt, "I can understand Jim not wanting to hit all of it at the same time. It's a lot. But just, you know, _once_, it would be nice to hear him say the stuff that matters."

-==OOO==-

_Oh, Chief_, Jim shifted uncomfortably. He had followed Jessie's footsteps to the very tail of the plane where she had taken a seat in the back of the hangar in a spot it appeared a vehicle was usually stowed.

To Jim's relief, Jessie didn't seem to want to talk at all. She'd drawn her knees to her face and was crying very softly. Jim was impressed, actually. He'd heard her pause as she passed through the area that was serving as an infirmary, could almost tell she was staring at Jonny before she'd fled again. But while her grief was potent, it wasn't overpowering her.

Jim sat beside her and waited. It didn't take long.

After less than a minute, Jessie tipped sideways so she was leaning against him. Jim raised one arm a little awkwardly before draping it around the girl's shoulder. She didn't seem to want to talk, and he wasn't sure what he'd have said if she did. But this appeared to be enough.

Blair was still talking to Hadji, but Jim turned his hearing away.

_Looks like we need to talk, Sandburg. Let's do it when we're both able to hear each other._

And though he wasn't overly fond of the idea, Jim knew that conversation was both important and inevitable. But at the moment, he was just glad he'd get the chance at all. A day prior, he hadn't been sure of even that much.

-==OOO==-

Half an hour later, Race returned to the cockpit. He nodded once at Blair, who immediately relinquished his seat. He also relinquished the notion that he was going to get anywhere with Hadji before the guy decided to let it happen. Blair Sandburg might be the king of obfuscation, but Hadji was certainly a fellow master at deflection and evasion and redirection. However, it didn't bother him as much as he'd thought it should – it wasn't that Hadji was refusing to react emotionally to the situation, just that he wanted to choose the time and place.

That was a very great improvement over certain bull-headed Sentinels...

Race looked appraisingly over at Hadji. "I got Benton to lie down. You should too, kid. You look like death warmed over, refrozen, and left in a taxi over a long weekend."

Hadji managed a smile that was more of a grimace, but he understood the dismissal and began to head for the middle section of the Dragonfly which was part living quarters and part med bay depending on the day. As he passed through the door, he heard Race ask Blair about the people who had abducted him, clearly slipping into his soldier/bodyguard mindset. Hadji could understand it; none of them believed this was really over yet. If it made it easier for Race to focus on what was ahead and not what lay behind him, well, that was a fair choice.

Through the tiny hallway with the on-board restrooms and the smallest galley ever, he appeared in the middle compartment. Seats that could be folded into beds lined the walls, shelves overhead converted to upper bunks to sleep twice as many. On one, Jonny was pale, the equipment all around him making more sound than his steady breathing. Hadji flicked a glance to where Doctor Quest had claimed the bunk right above his son so he would be closest should any of the monitors sound an alarm. From here, Hadji could not tell if his adoptive father was awake or not, but he would be surprised indeed if the man could sleep even as exhausted as he must be. Hadji knew he couldn't.

Hadji stepped up to grip Jonny's shoulder tightly. There were no words, not here, not now. But he held on as though he could draw the spirit that was absent back by will alone.

Gulping against a fresh wave of grief, Hadji stumbled backwards and sat on the floor opposite, leaning on the frame of the bunk facing it. He would meditate. Yes, that would be the best course of action now. He folded his legs, but his first deep breath came out half a sob.

A hand settled on his shoulder.

Hadji looked up to see Jaga, clearly groggy and partly still asleep. He was in the bunk Hadji had chosen to lean against, though the Indian had never even noticed him. The hand on his shoulder mirrored how Hadji had just tried to comfort his brother, and the similarity lent him strength. He had no way to express his feelings to the Sentinel, but he managed a tight smile. Jaga nodded to him and shifted in the bunk until he could keep his hand on Hadji's shoulder while he drifted back to sleep.

Grounded by the Sentinel's touch, Hadji slipped away into meditation.

-==OOO==-

Later, Blair made his way into the rear cargo hold, mostly just wanting to make sure Jim was okay. He'd sent his partner after Jessie with a calculated understanding; Jessie and Jim seemed to have certain personality traits in common, plus Jim and Race were very similar men, and Blair had made the lightning-quick assessment that Jessie would most benefit from those familiar likenesses. But Jim was no expert at teenagers or distress, so eventually Blair had gotten worried.

He hadn't needed be. When he slipped through the middle compartment and back to the hold, he found Jim and Jessie talking quietly while sitting on a bench. At his appearance, Jessie stood up. She was still pale, but she no longer radiated such immediate pain.

"Hadji's meditating and the others are sleeping," Blair said. "Well, except your dad. He's starting to contact that university friend Benton mentioned."

"I'll go help him," Jessie announced, tossing her head with more fortitude than Blair would have expected from most kids her age – heck, from most people _his_ age! "I'm faster at the radio than he is."

Blair watched her go and turned to Jim and the quiet suddenly got _really_ thick.

"Hey man," Blair moved forward a little hesitantly. "Thanks. You know, for coming to get me." He started talking faster. "I mean, I knew you would. I knew as soon as I didn't call that you'd come charging in because it's what you do and all, but still, after everything that's happened, it helped to know that I wasn't wrong and that you really would come all the way out there and I'm sorry you had to do it at all –"

"Easy, Chief," Jim held up his hands. "Of course I'd come. You'd do the same for me."

"Yeah, I would," Blair nodded. He dropped to the bench beside Jim. "I'm sorry you got 'outed' again, but the Quests are good people, anyway."

"It doesn't matter," Jim shook his head. "I wouldn't have gotten to you without Race and those two kids to help, and it was a lot easier with them knowing what I could do. It wasn't like I could have stopped them from finding out anyway since they already knew. And somehow I'm just not that worried about them making my life hell, you know?"

"Yeah," Blair nodded.

"Sandburg." Jim coughed a bit. A lesser man might have looked away, but Jim faced Blair squarely. "Look. I should have said this before. You're my best friend. Okay? And I'm always going to be there if you need me. I know we've had it rough lately."

"I don't think _rough_ covers it, man," Blair ran a hand through his hair. "In the last few months I've died, almost lost your friendship like six times or something, and, you know, the whole thing with the diss...I've made so many mistakes, it's no wonder stuff got so crazy."

"We _both_ made mistakes," Jim said firmly. "But the difference, as a certain redheaded girl pointed out to me not long ago, is that you made your sacrifices for my sake, and I just made excuses."

"Jim..." Blair looked up.

"I'm still going to sic Jessie on you," Jim said warningly. "That girl's got some fierce feelings. But she wasn't totally wrong. You gave up everything, Chief, for me. And mostly I've paid you back lately by being a controlling, moody jerk. Oh, and getting you killed."

He tried to say it flippantly, but it failed and they could both feel it.

"I'm alive," Blair said softly. "Because of you. Whatever else, if not for you, I wouldn't be here now."

They sat in silence for a few moments before Blair spoke again.

"It's true that you can be a moody jerk," he said, not with a smile but thoughtfully, staring into the middle distance. "But when I need to hear something, really hear it, you say it loud and clear. Maybe not the way other people would say it. Not even the way I would say it. You wanting me to be your permanent partner, as a cop, that told me what you meant. I heard you then, man. It's okay if you want to say it, but I hear it when you need me to hear it without you saying it outright, too. I'm going to do better about remembering to translate it and not getting so hung up on how exactly you try to get it across to me."

"Good," Jim nodded. "I'm not good at this stuff. Lucky for me, I've got a partner who's some kind of genius and he can figure out my caveman grunts and everything."

"Well, I _am_ an anthropologist," Blair smiled. "Interpreting primitive people is what I do!"

Jim looked for the hitch of sorrow that had been Blair's shadow ever since the press conference over the dissertation, but there was none. So he dared ask the question he had promised himself he wouldn't. "So, I know this isn't how you wanted it to go, but you did get your space for a little while. You got back to your anthropology roots. Did you find what you were looking for?"

Blair chose his words carefully, turning them over in his mind one at a time.

"I found a few things," he answered. "I found out there's a ton about Sentinels and Guides that I don't know anything about, so I'm, like, _super_ glad Jaga stayed along with us so I can keep talking to him about it. And I had a blast up until the whole kidnapping thing." He smiled ruefully. "It's amazing how often I get to say things like that."

Jim winced.

"But really? The part you care about?" Blair fixed his eyes on his Sentinel's face. "I still don't know if I want the badge. Ask me when all this," he gestured around them, "is over."

Jim nodded tightly.

"But even if I don't take the badge, I still want to be your partner." Blair felt a weight of uncertainty begin to lift from his shoulders. "Jaga talked about how Guides and Sentinels work as a two-man team for life when they join their animal spirits – apparently your little stunt at the fountain was _supposed_ to happen, just not that dramatically – and between them they can access whole new levels of stuff. And I know you don't want to hear about it," he forestalled the obvious deflection, "but that isn't what made up my mind for me."

"So what did make you decide you can still be my partner? My...Guide?" Jim considered the word. Yes, he liked it. If a Sentinel was patrolling the tribe's territories, he would need someone to lead the way sometimes, not just ease him through his senses. Jim had always had a man from the Chopec tribe to help him out in the jungle. Was that what Blair was to him? Someone to lead as well as follow, someone to know the way while Jim kept a lookout and kept them safe?

He could handle that.

"When we'd been in that place a while, I could feel myself starting to kind of shut down, you know? Forget who I was and what I was about. The sheer blankness of everything kind of put my soul to sleep. It would have been easy to just slip into the routine and become nothing more than a rat in a maze."

Jim swallowed convulsively. He'd seen prisoners of war, even those who weren't horribly mistreated, just held in a sterile world of lies and domination. He hated the idea of Sandburg's bright spirit submitting to that world.

"Know what kept me sane?" Blair smiled warmly at him. "You, man. The whole time we were doing Sentinel experiments on Jaga, poor guy, you were the first thing on my mind. Comparing what I know about your senses, or just hearing your jokes and your commentary and your snark in my head when I needed it. Those goons couldn't warp me or make me forget what mattered because you were always there with me – reminding me."

He nudged Jim with his shoulder and Jim gave in to the impulse to drop an arm around him.

Blair leaned into the contact. "I don't need the mushy stuff you hate from you, man. I just need _you_."

Jim's first instinct was to stay silent, but he fought against it. He'd had the same recurring thought more than once since the missed call from his Guide and he wasn't going to think it one more time without making sure the kid heard it this time.

"Same here," he said. Then, because that wasn't quite enough, "All my dials sound like you, Chief, when I'm on my own. I don't have to like it to know that it works better when you're here to give them a hand."

"Apparently Sentinels are supposed to have Guides," Blair said. "Jaga says it's something that lasts a lifetime. I don't...I'm not saying that," he quickly backtracked from Jim's usual prickliness, "but there's a lot more here than we understand. I guess it makes sense that we'd both be hanging onto each other when we're apart."

"Sure, Chief," Jim answered noncommittally.

They sat in companionable silence for a few moments before Blair changed the subject and launched into a story about something completely unrelated that had happened on the trip before he'd been abducted, and Jim settled in comfortably to the familiar voice and flow of words.

But inside he was thinking over the idea of a lifetime bond to this person, this Guide, this friend, this partner. And he wasn't honestly sure what shocked him more.

The idea that this might actually _be_ permanent and life-long instead of doomed to fail as everything else Jim tried to hold onto tended to be, or that, if he was honest with himself, Jim was not in the slightest bit uncomfortable with that.

_If Blair Sandburg wants a lifetime as my Guide_, he realized midway through his own musings, _there are worse ways to spend a lifetime than with him as my partner_.


	10. Chapter 10

This chapter references the episode "The Mummies of Malenque" from the second season of JQ:TRA. You don't need to have seen the episode, trust me.

This is also where we start to get into the larger world I've developed – the world that will take shape during this and the 3 novels that come next. Welcome aboard!

Enjoy!

* * *

><p>When the Dragonfly touched down at a private airfield just outside Kihei, Maui, they were met by an ambulance and a small bus. Race organized everyone into gathering up supplies from the 'Fly while Benton and Jim carefully carried Jonny's still body to the ambulance.<p>

"I'll go on to the university and you can join me there," he said breathlessly as he clambered into the ambulance beside his son. But before slamming the door, Benton looked into Jim's eyes. "Take care of my family, detective."

"I will," Jim promised. He understood that it wasn't their physical safety that had Benton worried now; it was their ability to handle the uncertainty. Jim had seen it, too, in Jessie's distress, in Hadji's sickened silence, in Race's almost mechanical managing of logistics. Jim was also worried about the kid, but somebody had to make sure there was an intact family waiting for Jonny to wake up.

Jim might not have been anybody's first pick of morale officer, but Doctor Quest had asked and he'd see that promise through. And it wasn't like he was trying to do it alone.

"I've never been to Maui," Blair was chattering as he hauled a box down the loading ramp to be piled into the storage bay under the bus, "but I've done research on some of the smaller Hawaiian islands. There's such a rich history and culture here."

Nobody was really listening, of course, but the glance Blair shot Jim told him that he knew as much and wasn't bothered – Sandburg was just filling up the space to keep out that insidiously quiet tension.

"Blair?" Hadji asked as Blair looked up from shoving the box into the bus.

"Yeah?"

"Here." He held out a small duffle bag. "Your belongings remain in the jungle, I believe. As you and I are of about a size, I thought perhaps you would not mind sharing for the time being. Race also has many extra sets of clothing, but I fear they would not fit you as well." There was almost a smile under the words.

"Hey, thanks!" Blair grinned at him. "Yeah, I've totally had it with this hospital clothing. And, you know, in some cultures, the giving of clothing and shelter denotes brotherhood and friendship and loyalty, so if it's from you, I'll take it!"

Hadji swallowed and nodded. He handed a bag to Jaga as well, though from what Jim could see peeking out of the top of the bag, the clothing there was Race's, not Hadji's. Well, Jaga was closer in size to Race. Really, he was closest of all to Jonny, but Jim could understand the kid not wanting to hand over his brother's things, not knowing if or when he would wake to want them back.

Jim sidled up to Blair. "You made up that brotherhood thing, didn't you?"

"No," he shrugged. "There's several different cultures _somewhere_ that put importance on offering a guest clothing. I just went for vague to make it sound good."

"Where are we going, dad?" Jessie asked as she made her way down the ramp with the last of the supplies.

"Benton's going with Jonny straight over to the university hospital," Race answered, keying in the code to close up the 'Fly. Then he strode out of the hangar in which they'd arranged to store it and closed the door. "I guess this friend of his pulled some strings and got us somewhere to stay on campus, probably where the profs live during the term, but with only a few summer classes on now, we'll have the place mostly to ourselves."

"We should get settled first," Jim found himself advising. As soon as he said it, he knew it was the right call. "After we get our stuff put away and get some showers and some food, then we can head down to the hospital."

Jessie and Hadji exchanged strangled glances. Both looked like they were ready to argue.

"He is correct," came the unexpected voice of Jaga. "Healing will take much time. We must take our own time to prepare for waiting."

"Come on, you two," Race said, putting an arm around each of his two young charges and steering them towards the bus. "We'll get to the hospital soon. And if there's anything we should know, Benton will call."

Several minutes later, with Race behind the wheel and the others spread in various seats nearby, Hadji looked over at Jessie. "Do you remember when you were ill in Malenque?"

"Sort of," she answered. "It's all kind of a blur."

"There was an antidote then," Hadji said. "Race...and Jonny...went after it for you. I was left behind to watch over you. I never had any doubts that between them, there was nothing they could not accomplish. I never had any doubts that they would bring back whatever was needed to save your life. So I waited."

"You talked to me," Jessie said lowly. "You told me to trust in our family, that they wouldn't let me down."

Hadji turned to look out the window. "I would give anything to make this like that was. But there is no antidote this time, no simple answer. No one we can defeat and earn salvation for Jonny. For all my studying, there is nothing I can do to save my brother."

"Not true, man," Blair said softly. "There's nothing stronger than brothers in the whole world. Believe me, I know. If there's a way to save yours with willpower alone, you'll find it." He glanced at Jim. "I know you will."

Still, it was a quiet group that pulled up outside the faculty annex on the edge of the campus. They discovered that it was a small apartment-building in its own right with living spaces for families or for multiple individuals to live in dorm rooms with communal facilities. A young woman met them out front.

"Hi," she said, jumping down from the chair she'd set up on the porch. "You're with Doctor Quest?"

"We are," Race confirmed. "Are you here to let us in?"

"Yup. I'm Kaimi. I'm working on an internship for the summer, so I do a lot of odd jobs around here," she explained.

"Easy, Chief," Jim warned Blair softly.

Blair snorted. "She's _so_ underage for me, man," he whispered low enough only a Sentinel could have heard. But he flushed slightly at being caught out. Kaimi had the same warm brown skin of the Hawaiian people and soft proportions. But her eyes sparkled with friendliness, and Blair could appreciate the art of the streak of electric blue in her hair. Clearly a girl with spirit.

"I'm Race, and this is Jessie and Hadji," Race began. He glanced to the others a little uncertainly.

"I am Jaga," the Sentinel introduced himself politely.

"Jim Ellison," the other Sentinel said. But when he heard how stiff that sounded, he shook himself. "Call me Jim. And that's my partner, Blair Sandburg."

"So you'll be responsible for seeing to our rooms?" Blair moved in quickly. With a wink and a small, conspiratorial smile, he asked in a stage whisper, "Which one's the best? I gotta get in before the big guys beat me to the good spot!"

Kaimi grinned. "The whole second floor has been set aside for your group. There's a bunch of singles and doubles and a communal kitchen and bathrooms and stuff." She sighed dramatically. "Unfortunately, most of the rooms are exactly the same."

But under the pretense of digging a key out of a pocket, she did whisper to Blair, "The rooms next to the bathrooms have paper-thin walls, so you might want to steer clear."

He grinned in response, even knowing perfectly well that the Sentinels would have caught it.

"I wouldn't have thought there'd be a space like this at the university for professors," Jim commented as the group divided up their belongings and began hauling everything to the elevators. "For students, sure. But you never had anything like this at Rainier, did you, Chief?"

"No," Blair shook his head, "but it's different in Cascade. Accommodations are tough to find out here, and the University of Hawaii has a lot of rotating and visiting staff. Plus, being such a big research hotspot, they expect to have experts drop in for a semester and it's way easier on everybody if they don't have to go halfway across the island to find a place they can afford."

The floor they found reflected Blair's words – it was somewhat nicer than a more standard dorm, with greater care taken with furnishings and decorations. However, the space was still largely utilitarian and a little sterile. When Jaga instantly moved over to the large sliding door that led out to a balcony from the common area and threw it open, no one blamed him for wanting the scent of the wind and water to banish any possible association with where they had last been held. Race stuck his belongings in a room near the stairwell, and Jim and Jaga spread themselves out through the other dorms, making sure someone was near to all entrances. Jessie took a room next to her father and Blair opted to share a wall with his partner.

When Hadji claimed the largest room, an airy double, and moved his adopted father's bags in as well, no one said anything – though more than one saddened glance was sent his way.

Just about the time everyone had finished showering and changing, Kaimi arrived with armloads of take-out food from a nearby Italian place. She seemed to understand that the group was in some distress and instead made herself scarce, though she did leave her contact information with Race in case they needed anything else since she was serving as the caretaker for the building over the summer break.

At last, Race finished cleaning up the take-out boxes and looked around. "Okay, gang. Let's go see our boys."

It was just a walk across campus, but it was stilted and tense all the same. The campus was still fairly active in spite of the summer term, but more because it boasted a beautiful green area for flying kites, having picnics, and otherwise enjoying the fine weather on the bright day. Somehow, all that relaxed joy and obviously happy families and friends only made their somber procession worse.

Benton met them at Admissions in the university hospital.

"Come on through," he said tiredly. "We've just put Jonny into an MRI, so he'll be there a while before we can get him settled. Due to the...nature of his situation, he'll be in a private room and the university has agreed to give us all full access."

Race looked critically at his old friend. Benton was running on nothing but worry. Even his sharp intellect was dulled by fear in a feverish, manic sort of way. Race only occasionally teased him about being a mad scientist, but today, with his unkempt appearance and the frantic nervousness of his mannerisms, he looked it.

Hadji had been watching his father, too, until there was hefty exhale of breath just at his shoulder. He turned to see Jaga, his face a little taut with strain. Without thinking, Hadji put a hand on his arm. "I know there is much to see and hear and smell," he said in a low voice, "but do not let the waters rise. Unless you want to wait outside?"

"I shall stay with you, Sang Beruang," he said solidly.

Hadji nodded and kept a hold on his arm while the Sentinel worked to control his senses. Jim noted the exchange and sent a significant look to Blair, but it was definitely not the right moment to discuss it.

They had just reached the proper floor when a woman appeared through the swinging doors leading to the pathology labs.

"This is the friend who is helping me," Benton introduced her. "Doctor Leilani Waihee, one of the world's foremost specialists in neuro-biochemistry."

"Oh man!" Blair bounced once as he strode forward. "Doctor Waihee, it's a real honor!"

"I didn't know you were into medicine," Benton furrowed his brow at Blair's excitement.

"Well, yeah, Doctor Waihee is _mostly_ famous for all the heavy brain stuff," Blair smiled, "but she's also famous in _my_ field as a groundbreaking specialist in medical anthropology." He held out a hand. "I'm Blair Sandburg. Your last article on Chinese traditional practices and the specific use of herbs was _totally_ helpful."

She smiled at him in pleased surprise, but her tone was firm. "I did not expect to see another anthropologist. Benton usually has such...literal-minded friends. This is an unexpectedly welcome thing to find."

"Wait, this is that woman you were telling me about, Chief?" Jim was surprised. He managed to gulp before blurting out the rest of his thought – _When you read me that long, tedious article that made no sense to me, I didn't expect her to be so...tiny_!

The doctor stood an inch or two shy of five-feet tall in her sneakers. Her long, black hair was swept to the nape of her neck in a loose bun, and her dark eyes were keen and sharp behind her neutral gaze. The fact that she wore capri pants and a t-shirt under her doctor's coat did not take away from her quiet dignity.

"It's nice to meet the rest of you as well," she said politely, if distractedly. She turned to Benton. "The first images are coming through now, if you'd like to see them."

"Absolutely." He began to follow her, suddenly aware that his entire entourage was at his heels. "Um...Leilani?"

"Yes, of course they may all come back," she said over her shoulder. "I'm certain I don't have to warn any of your people about how delicate it all is. And perhaps one of them will be able to get your jitters under control, my friend."

Surprised, the rest followed the doctors through the doors and to the imaging lab. Doctor Waihee pulled up several scans on the screens throughout the room.

"Jonny is in the MRI downstairs, but those results are much easier to analyze up here. When the test is over, an orderly will bring him back up." She waved at some of the seats in the room, rolling desk chairs scattered about between the many monitors. "Unless you know what you're looking at, take a seat. This could be a while."

The competence and obvious focus of the doctor was comforting as Doctor Quest's haggard worry hadn't been, and before even a third of the screens had been filled with different kinds of scans, everyone began to feel, if not less hopeless, at least less despairing. But an hour later, even her professionalism couldn't conceal her sudden surprise.

"Benton, look!" she pointed to a particular scan, quickly enlarging it on the main screen. "We have the 'what,' even if we don't know the 'why' or 'how' yet."

"I see it...but I don't believe it," Doctor Quest steadied himself on a nearby table.

"What is it?" Jessie was on her feet at once.

"I...I can't..." He took a breath and visibly pulled himself together. "Leilani, would you give us a minute? I need to discuss this with my family."

"Of course, Benton," she nodded kindly. "I'll make sure your son is getting settled in his room and check for any change." She patted him on the elbow and left them.

"What is it?" Hadji repeated Jessie's demand.

"This is a deep MRI scan of Jonny's brain," Benton ran a hand through his hair. "It shows areas where the activity is unusual. See these spots Leilani marked in red?" He gestured. "Even if Jonny were awake and in the middle of a soccer tournament or something, he wouldn't show this much activity here. It's completely abnormal, almost off-the-charts, really."

Suddenly Blair got a sinking feeling in his stomach. "I didn't do a lot of hard sciences, but I think I remember what those areas of the brain are for. So you're saying..."

Benton looked at him and their eyes locked. He nodded once.

"Oh man." Blair swallowed around a sudden tightness in his throat.

"And to everybody _not_ qualified to be a brain surgeon in the room?" Race asked testily, but his anger was based in fear and everyone could hear it in his voice.

"This one, for example," Benton pointed to a particularly fierce red spot at the back of the image. "This is the occipital lobe. It's the part of the brain that processes visual stimuli. And it's working on overdrive."

"Benton," Race tensed, "you told me that drug that he got exposed to..."

"I was forced to try to adjust an existing serum that those people had invented to try to 'create' Sentinels artificially. Their compound was dangerous and was as likely to kill as it was to work."

"A drug to _make_ Sentinels?!" Jim almost roared.

"You specifically told me it shouldn't work on someone without the genetic markers for being a Sentinel," Race argued.

"I know," Benton stepped backwards and almost fell into a chair. "I tested my own blood and I came back negative."

"But Jonny only has half your DNA," Jessie's voice was low and breathy. "Even if the traits are recessive, there was still a chance..."

Doctor Quest nodded miserably.

"So Jonny..." Hadji marshaled control over his expression, "is becoming a Sentinel."

Benton looked up. "Yes, maybe. Possibly. _If_ he can survive the process."

-==OOO==-

Less than half the group made the return trip to their rooms before nightfall. Doctor Quest was of course staying at the hospital to continue his tests, as well as to attempt to learn if there was anything he could do to ease or eliminate the chemical changes being wrought in his son's brain-matter. Blair, after he had overcome his shock, had instantly whirled into action, making use of his knowledge of Sentinel sensitivities to try to prevent any adverse reactions to everything from the sheets to the drugs being used, just it case it would help. Hadji had also opted to stay as moral support for both his father and brother, and Jaga had offered to keep an eye on them all.

Race, Jim, and Jessie walked across the campus in stiff, thoughtful silence. Had they been anything other than badly distracted by events, they might have enjoyed the stunning sunset taking place before them. But even the glory of the sky's colors couldn't shake the gloom that followed them.

When they reached their floor, Jessie disappeared into her room for a moment before returning to the large lounge with her laptop.

"What's up, Ponchita?" her father asked.

"I think it's about time to find out what those guys were really up to," she said, her fear and sorrow and stress all converted into an angry energy and driving determination.

"Good idea," Jim nodded. "If you've got a spare computer, I'm no hacker, but I'd be glad to start going through whatever you managed to get."

She shot him a grateful glance.

"Count me in, too," Race nodded. He retrieved Jonny's computer and one of Benton's and they set up a quick LAN group across the biggest table.

"I'll work on downloading and decrypting everything," Jessie offered. "You guys can do the research."

"This is really more Sandburg's area," Jim groused, but he didn't really mean it. He was a detective – he'd spent more than his share of time combing through computer records to break cases before. And this one was probably more important than almost any case he'd worked in a long while.

"Well, our geeks are busy," Race smiled at him mildly. "Let's see if we can surprise them when they get back."

The three fell into a rhythm and hours flew by. It was after midnight when everyone else arrived, surprised to see them so engrossed in their work.

"Are you guys too tired to want to hear what we found?" Jessie asked, looking at the others. They wore similarly wan expressions, but shook their heads simultaneously.

"I will not sleep until I know more," Hadji answered softly. "There are too many questions, and while it is my belief that to fear the unknown is to fear oneself, at the moment I am too afraid to care."

The three at the computers exchanged glances and Jim began to explain.

"The group behind your abduction is called 'Wellmen Global Reserves,' and they're a pretty big outfit," he reported. "The money trail suggests they're a professional group about the size of a mid-range corporation. They've had interactions all over the world, but the vast majority in the last few years has been focused in Eastern Europe, Asia, and the Middle East. The island location is a pretty recent installation, though."

"These guys are bad news, Benton," Race picked up the narrative. "They've got connections to half the governments in the world we wouldn't call first or second if we were in a tight spot, and they're truly mercenary. As in they don't pick sides. Kidnapping Sentinels is only part of what they do – they also apparently train them and sell them to the highest bidder, and they have no problem later going after an ally if the money is right."

"How many Sentinels are we talking about here?" Blair's eyes were wide.

Jim looked at him with deeply repressed rage and maybe also fear. "Hundreds, Chief. Hundreds of Sentinels in their own privatized human trafficking ring. Maybe thousands."

"That's _impossible_!" he shook his head. "There's _no way_ there are that many Sentinels in the world and no record of them anywhere. I _looked_! I looked _everywhere_! Believe me!"

"You weren't looking in the right places," Jessie said lowly. "Because all these Sentinels are part of one military or another. Russia, China, North Korea, countries like that. The Wellmen Global Reserves makes a business out of finding them, training them, and passing them to their business associates. Apparently they contract with governments who want them."

"Oh my god," Blair ran a shaking hand through his hair. "_Oh my god_."

"There's a pattern to the countries that trade in Sentinels," Race continued stoutly. "They're all pretty authoritarian as systems go, at least in practice. Countries that thrive on centralized control, secrecy, paranoia, and force."

"Like Brunei," Jim nodded. "No wonder they weren't on our side."

"Think about it," Jessie leaned forward. "If you're a dictator held up by the sheer power of your military and you fear democratization, what better tool to have at your disposal than a Sentinel? Not only as a guard to protect you from your political enemies or an assassin, but as a spy. Imagine having someone you could send out into the streets who could find traitors or identify a rebellion before it ever happens."

"But Sentinels are _protectors_ of their tribe!" Blair protested. "They're genetically wired to _help_ their people, not repress them!"

"Maybe, Chief," Jim said. He reached up to grasp his friend's arm and steer him so he could look at the screen facing Jim. "Maybe a true Sentinel is. But I'm not sure _these_ Sentinels ever got the chance to learn that."

"What do you mean?" Hadji spoke for the first time.

Race's voice was tight. "Looks like one of Wellmen's specialties in dealing with Sentinels is what they call 'reeducation.' Basically, they train Sentinels to be totally loyal to their handlers, usually a small squad of soldiers that are part of the deal. The Sentinel sees that small group as their tribe and will obey any orders given as long as they don't directly bring the squad to harm. At least, that's what they advertise. And…there's a lot of psychological conditioning involved as well."

"How so?" Doctor Quest looked more than a little green.

"It's almost the total opposite of Blair's research," Jessie explained. "While he was focusing on teaching Jim to control his senses, to own them, to embrace his instincts and his abilities to make them more robust no matter his environment, these guys acutely disempower their Sentinels. They teach their Sentinels how to use their senses, sure, but they leave them with almost no direct control. The Sentinels can't function in society without help. They can't sleep in a room that isn't stacked with white-noise generators. They can't cope with _anything_ on their own. They are totally dependent on their handlers, without whom they get completely lost in sensory fugue or overload."

"Learned helplessness," Blair's gaze raked over the screen. "It makes it so no Sentinel will ever get out of the program. They literally can't function without the people who hold their leashes."

"Wellmen Global Reserves," Benton mused for a moment. Then he snapped his fingers. "Of course! 'It is said that a wise man can see more from the bottom of a well than a fool can from a mountain top.' In this case, a Sentinel, who not only has the physical ability to literally see more, but also a resource that must be acquired, controlled, confined, and maintained as a commodity."

"A commodity…" Hadji echoed. He shivered. "No wonder they wished us to experiment as they did. There is much that now makes sense."

"And a tough call to make," Race met Benton's eyes. "These people know about Jim and Jaga. And they know about Blair's research. They're not going to forget any time soon."

"We need to get to someplace secure," Jim nodded. "Originally we said we'd head for your place, but when Jonny got so sick we came here instead. But now…"

"We're not leaving Jonny behind!" Jessie snapped.

"Of course not," Race shook his head. "But the question is – can we move him, Doc?"

All eyes shifted to Benton. He let out a long, tense breath that hitched as though it were trying to turn into a hiccup or a sob.

"We have to," he decided after a moment. "If they find us here, they'll find Jonny, too. Jim and Jaga are already full Sentinels and can hold their own, but Jonny…" he swallowed.

"Does not have lifetime of practice knowing his own mind," Jaga said softly. "He is clay, easy to mold."

"Exactly," Doctor Quest nodded. "He's stabilized, and the truth is that there probably isn't much more we can do for him here that we can't do at home. I don't have an MRI at the compound, but now that I know what's happening, I don't really need one. All I can do now is monitor him and hope that the changes happening don't cause him any more harm. Besides, no hospital is going to let me play in their labs and experiment on my own son without my having to explain everything, no matter how many favors I call in. But I might be able to do some good with what I have at home."

He looked up. "And I know that Jonny would rather take the risk and head home than wait for anyone to find him, and the rest of us, here."

"You're right, Doctor Quest," Hadji said softly. "Were he here, he would plead with you to ensure all our safety rather than just his. And we will all be safer on our own lands."

"Okay. So, everybody get some rest. We'll mount a double-watch, here and at the hospital, just in case. Benton, you're sleeping here and you're not arguing with me. You're going to need to be sharp enough to be an MRI and a nurse all at the same time and you can't do that on no sleep," Race wagged his finger at his friend. "I'll send Jim to Jonny – there's nobody who can protect him better. We'll take off as soon as I can get clearance in the morning."

"Then you don't take a watch, either, dad," Jessie pointed out. "We'll need you to pilot."

"You either, Chief." Jim looked up at Blair's surprise. "You're our Sentinel expert, Sandburg. And I know you didn't sleep on the plane."

The remaining four split the rest of the night, a bit less than six hours, into halves and separated – Jim and Jessie to the hospital and Jaga and Hadji to keep watch over the dorm. But Blair quietly followed after the hospital-bound pair anyway. When pressed, he promised to sleep, but he didn't like the idea of not being around for Jim if something went wrong. "I'm still your partner," he argued, "so I'm going to watch your back even if you have to wake me up to do it!"

Benton called ahead to the head nurse on the night shift and somehow talked her into allowing the trio unlimited access to Jonny's room for the night. Jessie squeezed Jonny's hand tightly once before curling up on the other bed in the room and dropping off into sleep almost at once. When her breathing and heart-rate told Jim she was truly out, he turned to Blair.

"So, what happens now, Darwin?"

"I don't know, Jim," he answered tiredly. "I really don't know anymore."

"Me either."

Blair looked up and saw a much greater admission in those two words. He saw Jim's uncertainty, his old fear of revealing himself magnified tenfold. He saw Jim's worry about the Quests and the danger they now faced. He saw Jim's unparalleled fear for his partner, for what might come to Blair now that they had so many more enemies than they had ever imagined. He saw Jim adrift, warring with his instincts and his responsibilities and his feelings, and like with the dissertation disaster, he knew Jim was just as afraid to move forward as he was to retreat.

"I guess I do know one thing," Blair found himself saying, the need to give Jim something to hold onto driving inspiration.

"What's that?"

"If…when Jonny wakes up, he's going to need help." He looked into Jim's face and saw it close even more at the implication.

Jim sidestepped the issue. "You're the teacher, not me, Sandburg."

"I'm a Guide," Blair admitted. "But I'm not a Sentinel. There's things only you can help him with."

Jim looked at the still boy, almost as pale as the white sheets that surrounded him. He remembered the kid's courage, his loyalty, his dedication. And now if he ever woke up, he would wake straight up into sensory chaos and a slow descent into madness. Jim couldn't wish that on him.

But all he said was, "We'll see, Chief. We'll see."


	11. Chapter 11

The inside joke referenced here (to do with reptiles) is from the JQ:TRA episode "Alligators and Okeechobee Vikings," one of my favorites, actually. The boys get all the best one-liners.

Oh, a note that isn't very important but it makes me feel better – I put Bandit back in the story. Yay? You gotta understand, writing that little dog is a tremendous pain. He's always gotta be around doing something plausible, but he rarely adds much to the story. So, don't be surprised not to get much in the way of puppy antics from me. I'm more of a cat person, anyway. ;-)

Also, thank goodness for Race Bannon. Maybe he can pick up where Jessie left off and beat some sense into our wayward Jim. I love Jim Ellison, I really do. But we all know he could use some cognitive reorganization. Or, as my beta put it, "kicking Jim's brain into gear – round two."

Enjoy!

* * *

><p>As planned, the Dragonfly departed Maui around 7am local time the next morning. It was a six hour flight from there to the airport in Maine, but they logged a different flight-plan on all official channels – it was a standard operating procedure for the Quests. The flight-plan they submitted to the tower and to the FAA showed them traveling to Florida and onto Palm Key, and just like official records obscured the actual destinations and flight-paths of craft like Air Force One, the Dragonfly's true aim was hidden. Jim had marveled at the level of secrecy and governmental support given to the Quests, but Race had just shrugged.<p>

"Benton's the guy who invented weapons so secret even _I'm_ not allowed to know about them," he said. "Presidents come and go. What's in Benton's brain could start – or stop – World War Three. Plus, there are more favors owed to him than there are lobbyists in Washington. Benton never calls in favors about taxes or covering up crimes, just for keeping us safe. He can kind of write his own rules."

Jim looked through the open door to where Doctor Quest was again curled up in the bunk above Jonny's, sleeping exhaustedly. In fact, everyone but Race and Jim were sleeping now. There wasn't much else to do for the next six hours, and everybody had needed it. Jim was only awake himself because Race had asked him to talk.

"I hate to admit it," Jim said, "but I just don't see it. I'm not saying he isn't important or his research doesn't make all the difference. I just don't see how he can be that influential. Lots of important scientists get treated like dirt by our government."

"True," Race allowed, "but how many multi-billionaires get treated that way?" He grinned. "You didn't think this stuff came cheap, did you? Benton doesn't like to play that card, but if he can't get his way honestly or through trading favors above board, he's got enough cash to get the job done another way."

"Hardly seems fair," Jim found himself joking to keep from staring. "Unlimited brains _and_ wealth?"

"Well, it helps to own thousands of patents," Race explained. "He hasn't even sold the tech that makes the 'Fly what it is, yet, and that alone could buy him a country. He came from some money, but most of it comes from those brains. The stuff he invents in his free time could put any one corporation on top of the world."

"Which is why he has time to go chasing after giant snakes," Jim said.

"Something like that." Then Race sobered. "Benton doesn't like flexing his muscle, which is fine with me because it means the vast majority of the world doesn't know what they could get from him. But after what happened at Palm Key a few years ago, the Maine complex has about a thousand different security measures. And _nobody_ who doesn't pass our investigations gets in there. _Nobody_."

"I understand," Jim said seriously.

"You better," Race said, "because once we get there, it's on you."

"Me?"

"I'm making everybody sleep right now – they need it bad," Race tipped his head to the aft compartment, "even if Jess wouldn't admit it on pain of death and Benton has a whole dictionary of new ways to tell me he's 'fine.' But we both know you and I haven't slept but a few hours since we met. After I set this thing down at the airstrip, I'm not going to last much longer. I'll get us to the compound and secure it, but that's probably it. Then I'll be down for at least twelve hours. I'm getting too old for this stuff."

Jim nodded. Then he asked, "Isn't there any other on-site security team?"

"No," Race shook his head. "Benton wants the kids to have as normal a life as possible. There's only ever been me. Well," he smiled a little wryly, "not counting Benton himself and those kids. Don't let them fool you – even Benton can take down a man blindfolded in unfamiliar territory. Jess can shoot just about anything smaller than a rocket-launcher you put in her hands. Jonny's a natural fighter. And the first time we met Hadji he saved Benton's life by intercepting a throwing-knife. We're a pretty formidable force."

"You could take that on the road," Jim said lightly. "Family for hire – science or combat as needed."

"Yup." Race grinned with pride. "They're something, all right. But they're at their limits, all of them. They're also distracted by what happened to Jonny, and I know them too well. The minute we land, Benton and Hadji will be in the lab with Jonny. Jess will either go with them or she'll beat out her feelings in the rumpus room and crash afterwards. None of them have the right focus to stand guard."

"And you think I can?" Jim asked.

Race looked away from the controls to meet his eyes. "I know you can."

The weight of that trust hit Jim in the chest, and he grew steady under it. "I understand. What do you need?"

"I'll set everything up before I hit the sack. It's all automated – somebody just needs to know how to keep an eye on things, and you've got the best eyes around."

Race's easy teasing seemed like it should have lit up that part of Jim's brain that still hated the strangeness of his Sentinel nature, but somehow it didn't. He smiled instead. "True. And I can get Jaga to patrol the perimeter. He'll do better there than with all the computers. Heck, so would I, but that would leave your systems with Sandburg, and nobody wants that."

Race nodded. They spent the next two hours reviewing the systems, Race walking Jim through bringing up some of the network information on the 'Fly's computers, until Jim had at least a beginning grasp of the basics. Then he, too, retreated to an open bunk to sleep for a while, his brain humming with the sheer resources on display, the intricacy of the technology. Jim had grown up privileged, but this made his upbringing look like nothing in comparison. Then he bit down on a chuckle.

_I wonder_, he thought as he drifted to a light sleep_, what Dad would give to have the ear of Benton Quest. If he knew where I am right now, his head might explode. And it definitely would explode if he knew I won't use this to anyone's advantage. I've got something Dad would pay half his portfolio to get –the trust of Benton Quest – and all I care about is holding the perimeter._

He dropped off feeling a little smug. And proud.

-==OOO==-

Events upon arrival in Maine played out almost exactly as Race had anticipated. They landed at a private airfield a short drive from the compound and Race piled everyone into the massive nondescript van parked in the unmarked Quest hangar. There was only one stop to make on the way.

"I'll do it," Hadji said, a little shakily. Jaga, Jim, and Blair watched in confusion as Hadji clambered out of the van just around the block from the airfield to enter the door of a square, beige building. In moments he was returning with something small and white squirming in his arms.

"Meet the last of the family," he said. "Bandit, this is Jim and Blair and Jaga. They're friends. Be nice."

The little white bulldog sniffed delicately at the three before giving a distressed yelp and bolting from Hadji's grip. He scrambled up to the reclined seat in which they had strapped Jonny's still unconscious form. The dog perched on Jonny's chest and began to lick his chin furiously.

"He's Jonny's dog," Jessie explained in a low voice. "Sometimes we take him with us on our trips, but Borneo was too dangerous for him."

"Too dangerous for us all, it seems," Benton's voice was soft.

At the compound, Jim approved of the outer and inner fences, the cameras and sensors and everything, much of it heavily concealed. The house and the nearby lighthouse, as well as several other large outbuildings mostly for storage or for sizeable projects such as the Dragonfly were all part of a central area on the point, ringed with its own security, but there were acres and acres of land within the first outer perimeter, a couple of miles inside the second, and a sensor net that was spread almost all the way to town even beyond the fenced-in borders.

Race had only just parked the van and turned on the whole system when his energy totally flagged and Jessie was obliged to help him to his room. Jim went straight to the security room to begin checking things out while Blair and Jaga unloaded stuff at Jessie's direction. Hadji and Benton between them vanished into the basement lab with Jonny. Bandit was banished from the lab, so he took to following Blair around instead. When the van was totally unloaded, Jaga opted to scout the grounds and Jessie made herself scarce.

"What happens now, Jim?" Blair asked, pulling Bandit into his arms and petting the dog kindly as he looked between the many screens and panels Jim was navigating.

"For now, we keep our eyes open," he answered. "They're counting on us to keep the watch."

"Yeah, I know that, man," Blair said. "But after that, when Jonny wakes up…" Jim stubbornly stayed quiet and Blair let out an angry gust of air. "Come on, Jim! You know we have to help him!"

"He's a smart kid. He can figure it out."

"Jim, it's going to be ten times worse for him than it was for you!" Blair protested.

"Hey, I didn't know what I was doing either," Jim argued.

"Consciously, no. But your abilities manifested in you as a child rather than a teenager. Working with me helped you open up the innate control you'd had originally. Jonny doesn't have _any_ of that. He's going to need help."

"I know that!" Jim crossed his arms and breathed out angrily. "I just want to get home as soon as possible." The threats, the danger Blair had been in, and now the distance from his place, his space, his territory – it was crawling around inside him like a spider.

"I know, big guy. I hear that, believe me. But between the two of us, we won't need a lot of time to get Jonny at least enough control to manage. Especially if…" Blair trailed off a little doubtfully.

"If what?"

Blair sighed. "If we can teach Hadji to be Jonny's Guide."

Jim raised an eyebrow. "What about Jaga?"

"I don't know," Blair fidgeted with Bandit's collar. "We've got two Sentinels here and only one Hadji. Since I'm already spoken for," he flashed a grin at Jim.

Jim did not smile. "Damn right you are," he grumbled.

Blair coughed to cover his pleased surprise. "What do you think, Jim?"

"I think Jaga already thinks of Hadji as his Guide," Jim said after a moment. "You've seen the way he watches him. You probably saw a lot more than that while you guys were locked up together."

"Yeah," Blair nodded. "They were…close, I guess. Really solicitous of each other. It was almost akin to courtship behavior."

"Hadji seems comfortable with Jaga," Jim said slowly. "And Jaga is already a full Sentinel. If Jonny survives and becomes one, he's going to be starting from scratch. He might need more help than the kid can give him."

"You think Benton could be a Guide for him?" Blair asked.

"No." Jim frowned. "I don't know why. It just doesn't feel right. Benton's not a Guide."

"Well, maybe Jonny won't need a Guide right away anyway," Blair considered. "I mean, you didn't, not when you were a kid or in Peru. And you don't really need one now. It's not like you can't function without me around. Maybe…maybe it's just a cultural imperative for Jaga and Jonny will be more like you."

"Maybe," Jim said uncertainly. Then, "I don't know about the cultural imperative stuff, but don't sell yourself short, Chief. I don't need you to function, you're right. But I still need you as a partner, Sandburg. We went over this."

"Right, right," Blair nodded and put his hands up. Then he redirected their conversation. "Well, it'll be interesting to see if there really is some kind of ritual Jaga undertakes to claim Hadji as his Guide. I bet I could just ask him about it, but I'd rather watch it happen naturally."

Jim nodded noncommittally. They settled in to keep an eye on things, Blair mostly talking and Jim mostly listening, but his focus wasn't really on his partner's words. Instead, he focused more on Sandburg's heart-rate and wondered if the little skip and then fluttering speed that had come when Jim had told Blair he needed him would happen again.

-==OOO==-

Two days later, Jonny began showing signs of consciousness. He twitched and flinched at lights and sounds, all of which encouraged Benton thoroughly even as it worried him. Because it took only a little testing to confirm that Jonny's sensitivity to sound, for example, was much greater than an average person's.

For the next 36 hours, Benton and Blair worked to create a Sentinel-friendly environment in the small med bay area of the laboratory. They installed several white noise generators and changed the lights from fluorescents to those that were "quieter" according to Jim. Jonny was still taking nutrients intravenously, so they didn't have to worry about tastes, but they also changed the cleaners Doctor Quest used in the lab to eliminate strong odors.

The downtime allowed them all a chance to connect and compare notes, Blair sharing more of his experience with Benton and catching him and Race and Jessie up on all the things he'd told Hadji during their week of captivity together. If Jim was annoyed that Blair seemed happy to blithely talk about everything from his near-death experience to their bumps in the road as they'd learned to deal with Jim's senses in the beginning, he didn't say anything about it. In fact, except when he was alone with Sandburg, he didn't talk much at all. When asked, he pointed out that Jonny might be able to hear what was going on – and he didn't want the kid to worry. After that, they all tried to keep their outlook more positive, at least out loud where Jonny might overhear.

But the best advice came from Jaga over breakfast. All the non-Sentinels were taking shifts sitting with Jonny to make sure he was never alone in case he woke, so it was Race who was on duty while the others ate some hastily-prepared eggs courtesy of Jim.

"It's good to eliminate all loud noises and smells," Jaga said as Blair and Benton continued to discuss Jonny's care, "but you must fill silence with something. Sentinel or not, no man wakes to nothing. Give something to follow back to our world."

"What would you suggest?" Blair asked, interested.

"Child Sentinels not know how to wake from the dark, nor know how to listen for family voices," Jaga said. "Parents often lure back to waking with beloved, familiar things."

Benton, Jessie, and Hadji all looked to where Bandit was leaning against Hadji's foot, face still clearly sad at the lack of his person. Within minutes, the dog was pillowed on Jonny's stomach, sleeping happily and wuffling at his boy between his snores.

Later that afternoon, Jim was on the phone with Simon.

"I don't really know how long we'll be here," he hedged, "but…it could be a few more days. Or maybe a little longer."

"Well, it's not like you don't have the time saved up," Simon sounded resigned. "Wish you'd tell me what it's all about, though, Jim. Or even just where you are."

"I can't," Jim answered. "There's people still looking for Blair, and I don't want to lead them out here if they're tapping your phone."

"If somebody's tapping _this_ phone, they're in for a real rough time if I catch them at it," the captain growled. Jim grinned.

"Look, Simon. We're okay. We're just lying low a bit longer to let the heat blow over and help out a little around here, and then we'll be home."

"And you'll tell me everything that's happened," Simon added.

"Uh, yeah."

"Jim, 'uh, yeah' is not an acceptable form of saying 'yes, sir.'" There was teasing in Simon's voice even if they both knew he meant it seriously.

"Yes, sir."

"Well, Sandburg's due back here in two weeks, so you've got that long before people start asking questions. Keep it in mind, because I do _not_ want to have to come up with something to keep half the detectives of the department from tracking you down."

"I understand."

"Jim," Simon hesitated before he plunged on. "Are you sure you're okay? That military guy isn't a threat to you, is he?"

Jim laughed. "Honestly, Simon, we're okay. Trust me. If these guys wanted us locked up in a government lab, we'd already be gone. They're good guys. We're safe here."

There was a moment of silence as both men contemplated how rarely Jim said such a thing.

"I'm glad to hear it," Simon finally said. "Just _keep_ it that way for once, will you?!"

That was roared loud enough that Blair, standing beside Jim, could hear it even without Sentinel hearing. He stifled a laugh.

"I hear you, Simon," Jim winked at his partner. The 'Naomi Code' had never been explained to Simon.

"Why does that sound like the opposite of what I want to hear?" Simon grumbled.

Blair's laughter burst out. "We've got a smart captain, Jim," he managed breathlessly.

"Jim? Jim, is that kid _laughing_ at _me_?" Simon demanded. "Jim! You tell him I won't be laughed at!"

"Whatever you say, Simon," Jim's eyes were bright with his own suppressed chuckling.

"_Jim_! Stop laughing at me! _Both_ of you! That's an _order_!"

"Talk to you later, Simon!" Jim practically sang at him. He hung up and immediately let go of the laughter that had been building.

"Well, that was fun," Blair sniggered.

"Simon's probably not sure if he should laugh or wait until we call back and yell at us," Jim took a deep breath to try to regain some lost dignity. "As long as he's still amused, though, we're probably okay, Chief."

"Glad to hear it," Blair answered.

Suddenly Jim tipped his head sideways. Blair knew by the look on his face that he was listening intently, so he gave his partner a few moments before asking "What is it?"

"Hadji's just called out of Jonny's room into the lab. Jonny's waking up."

"That's great, man! Come on," Blair seized his arm and pulled. "Let's go!"

"Shouldn't we give them a minute?" Jim resisted.

"Normally I'd say yes," Blair said, still tugging, "but not if he's waking up a Sentinel. Nobody knows how this is going to go, and I want both of us on hand in case things get crazy."

Jim allowed himself to be half-dragged down into the basement laboratory, meeting Race who had also come running at the summons. The only person missing was Jaga, whom Jim could hear moving to the front window. Keeping watch, Jim realized, and he nodded in silent approval.

The med bay was a small room compared to the lab, but it was still the size of a fairly spacious bedroom. There were several beds scattered about, but all had been pushed back against the walls to leave the greatest empty space around Jonny's bed in the center. On one side, Benton was leaning over him eagerly. On the other, Hadji had hold of his hand and was speaking in a low voice. Bandit was happily licking his person's free hand as if to remove the stickiness of the tape that had held in his IV. Jim and Blair came to a stop at the end of the bed with Race and Jessie.

"Do not try to speak if it hurts, my friend," Hadji was saying. "You have been quiet for many days."

"Bet you…hated that," Jonny rasped with a slight smile that encompassed both his father and his adopted brother.

"More than you know, Jonny," Benton said heavily, a hand on his shoulder. "More than you know."

Jessie ducked to grab a cup of water and brought it to Jonny, who took a few small sips carefully. Then he spoke in a more normal voice. "Hadj, are you okay? The last thing I remember is going in to rescue you and…"

"I am fine," Hadji said quickly. "Do not concern yourself."

"I remember…" Jonny frowned. "I remember getting into where dad was, and a guy and…_oh_!" His eyes opened wide.

"Easy, son," Benton put a hand on his chest to keep him from bolting upright. "You're all right now."

"That stuff! I remember something about Sentinels!"

"Yes," Benton said gently. "Tell me, are you experiencing anything…unexpected?"

"Unexpected?" Jonny repeated as his eyes widened. "You mean I…?" This time he shook off his father's hand and sat up completely.

"Jonny," Jim found himself jumping in even though he didn't really know why. "Tell me what you can see."

Jim fixed his senses on the boy and watched as Jonny's eyes suddenly dilated unnaturally widely. His respiration and heart-rate started to increase, not with the panic of fear, but almost excitedly. There was a subtle difference between the two that Jim had learned to identify, thanks to his very expressive roommate.

"Over your shoulder, out in the lab, there's a yellow legal pad on dad's desk. And…I can read it!" Jonny grinned brilliantly. "I can see it as clearly as if it were right in front of me." Then he paused and frowned at what he read. "Dad, don't call being a Sentinel a 'condition!' It's great!"

"Well," Race crossed his arms. "I guess that answers that question."

"We'll have to do some testing," Blair bounced on the balls of his feet. "See how advanced each of his senses is, how extensive the range. And Jonny, I don't know if Jim talked to you about the zone-out factor but you should know you'll need to be careful until you get some practice with your senses."

"We talked a little," Jonny reported, bringing his vision back to normal and looking at the people around him, "and I read all your papers. I read all about the dials and everything. This is going to be fantastic!"

"Jonny," his father said warningly, "I know this all seems very exciting, but you've undergone a severe and dangerous neurological change. You're...different now, and…"

"Dad, wait," Jonny interrupted. He took a deep breath and leaned back against the headboard. Almost automatically, Hadji reached to adjust his pillows. Jonny shot his brother a grateful look. He closed his eyes for a moment before fixing them on his father.

"Being a Sentinel is inherently genetic, right?"

"Well, yes," Benton said.

Blair added, "It's an uncommon genetic advantage, but it's as much a part of you as the color of your eyes or whether your sense of taste thinks broccoli is disgusting. Perfectly normal."

"So I was always a Sentinel, but I'd just never gotten that part of my genes turned on, right?"

His father shrugged, watching him carefully.

"Is the change stable? I mean, I'm conscious and I'm not hallucinating or something. Is there still stuff eating away at my grey matter, or is it settled now?"

"No, any change should be well finished by now," Benton said. "The last few blood panels I ran show that there's only the barest trace of the dangerous components left in your body – I don't think there should be any more drug interactions from this point forward. I can't know for sure, of course, but..."

"Right," Jonny nodded firmly. He turned back to Blair. "So, Mister Sandburg, if I did what Jim did and went off by myself for weeks in the woods, there's a good chance this would have happened to me anyway, right? That to become a Sentinel takes a combination of genetics and an isolated environment?"

"That's my current theory," Blair acknowledged. "But drop the 'mister' stuff. Blair's fine."

Jonny grinned. "Deal! See, I've never been alone like that before. Not ever. I've been away from dad in the woods for a week, but Race and Jessie or Hadji were always with me, so we wouldn't have known yet. It's just as likely that being a Sentinel was always in my cards and I just got dealt the hand a little early."

"Jonny," Benton frowned, "it's not as easy as you're making it out to be."

"Of course not," Jonny replied. "I'll have to work super hard to learn to control my senses just like Jim did. Learning that stuff won't be easy. I read the diss. But being a Sentinel? Dad, I've _always_ been a Sentinel. We just didn't know it."

"It's a huge adjustment," Jessie put in. "I can't believe you're taking it so well."

"Yeah, but look at it from my perspective. If that shot of stuff had made me, I dunno, blind or deaf, it would also be an adjustment, right? But it wouldn't stop me from being _me_. I would just have to learn to interact with the world differently. It's like I just woke up left-handed instead of right-handed. _I'm_ still _me_. I'm just _also_ a Sentinel."

Then he smiled a little more eagerly. "And being a Sentinel is awesome. Even if it's hard, it's going to be worth it. I know stuff might still go wrong, but I've sure got a better chance of seeing it coming now!"

"I am amazed by your ability to be so pleased and optimistic by a situation which many might consider a burden at the best and a curse at the worst," Hadji commented lightly. His eyes flicked momentarily to Blair but he returned to focus on Jonny.

"You're the one who always said that fate aids the courageous," Jonny smiled at him.

"Yes. I have also said that the paradox of karmic fate is the razor's edge between predestined reality and active choice."

"What the heck does that mean?" Jim asked.

"It means that one is always where one is supposed to be," Hadji answered, "and that there are no coincidences when you act with your heart."

Jonny's eyes lit with a familiar light. "Do you know how smug that sounds, Hadj?"

Hadji's face went incandescent as he recited the next line of their banter. "Smugness has nothing to do with it. If you are always wishing to be somewhere else, you will never understand the significance of the moment."

"So what, exactly, is the significance of _this_ moment?" Jonny answered as he was supposed to.

"I am confident with whatever significance you wish to assign," Hadji grinned, "as long as it does not involve large reptiles."

Blair and Jim looked to Race with a clear question in their faces and he shrugged. "It's some kind of inside joke."

"But seriously," Jonny said, "I finally get it. Today, right now, I am what I want to be. I can _feel_ it. I'm a Sentinel. I'm okay with that. I'm _supposed_ to be a Sentinel. That's the significance of everything leading up to this moment. I _know_ it."

Without a word, Jim Ellison turned and left the room. Blair started to follow, but Race caught his arm.

"You stay. Start Jonny with Lesson Number One Of Being A Sentinel. I'll talk to him."

Race knew he couldn't follow Jim without the Sentinel knowing about it, so he made no attempt to hide his presence. When he'd followed the detective up into the house and out to the path that led to the lighthouse, he broke into a gentle jog. Jim kept walking until he was at one of the cliffs that looked out over the Atlantic, affording him a splendid view. When Race approached and stopped at his shoulder, he let out a breath.

"Needed some air," Jim said shortly.

"Yeah, I kind of figured that out," Race returned. He debated with himself about waiting for Jim to say something else, but a minute or two passed and Jim had not broken his silence. Race sighed. _All right, Jim. If that's how you want to play it, you should know you can't possibly out-stubborn Jessie's mother, so I'm ready for you_. _ I won't give up that easily_.

"Look, Jim," he began, "you know Jonny wasn't saying anything about _you_. He was talking for himself."

"Yeah, I know that."

_How does Blair deal with this guy_? Race wondered. He opted to go for the direct approach. "Then why don't you tell me why we're out here instead of back inside?"

"I just needed some air."

_I will not strangle this man. I will not strangle this man. It would upset the kids_. "You look like a man who should do some talking with your breathing."

"No thanks."

Race growled as his patience snapped. "Okay, _that's it!_" Jim actually turned at the sudden temper in the other man's voice. "Jonny's a Sentinel and he's fine with it. And from what I understand, you aren't so fine. And now you're out here staring at the ocean. Yeah, that's going to help you a lot!" he bit out the sarcasm.

"Don't think you know the first thing about this," Jim warned.

"Oh, believe me, I get it. Big tough Jim Ellison, Cop of the Year, best detective in Cascade can't deal with the fact that he's not one-hundred percent _average_."

Jim frowned darkly. "This is none of your business."

"_It is now_!" Race yelled. "It became my business the minute this Sentinel stuff got Benton and Hadji kidnapped. And if you weren't so busy plugging your ears and running away from what you really are, you'd see that _every_ time you try to fight being a Sentinel _people get hurt_!"

Jim felt his retort freeze in his throat.

Race stepped closer and poked a finger into Jim's chest menacingly. "Let me tell you this, Mr Detective Cop. I'd give my right arm to be able to hear and see like you do. It's what Jonny said. Do you realize how well I could protect my family if I had your advantages? Didn't you listen to Jessie at all when she yelled at you on the 'Fly? Or are you so caught up in your own head you can't see this for what it is?"

"_And what is it_?" Jim ground out.

"Being a Sentinel is a _miracle_," Race menaced, getting right in Jim's face. "Not a handicap, not a disability, not a flaw. Stop being ashamed of the fact that you are luckier than I'll _ever_ be, and your partner in there is _alive_ because of it!"

"Don't shout at me because you can't handle being jealous," Jim lashed out.

"Don't you make this about me when the _only_ guy _stupid_ enough to be sorry he's got your abilities is _you_!"

Jim drew back to slug Race, but Race was ready for that and neatly kicked a foot out from under him. They were about evenly matched in size, and probably in training too between Jim's years as a cop and Ranger and the life Race lived with the Quests, not to mention all the various forms of martial arts each had picked up through their travels. But Jim had broken the cardinal rule of combat: never let your emotions control your actions. After a few moments of scrabbling in the dirt, Race got the upper hand and shoved a knee into Jim's back.

"Now you listen to me and you listen _good_," Race's voice was heavy with exertion and repressed rage. "You've spent so long worried about what people would think about _you_ being a Sentinel. Well, now there's somebody _else_ who has to think about it. Jonny's excited now, but we both know the minute he walks out of that white-noise quiet room he's going to get hit with it like a runaway herd of buffalo. You've got until that happens to straighten out your perspective, get your head on right, and start acting like a _real_ watchman and not the tribe _whiner_."

"Or else what?" Jim demanded.

Race's words went so soft only a Sentinel could have caught them. "If you make Jonny feel as bad about being a Sentinel as you do, you'll answer to _me_. And if there's _anything_ left when I'm done with you, I imagine you'll get to explain to Blair Sandburg why, exactly, he gave up everything in his life for you, you selfish bastard."

Race pushed off him, brushed the dirt from his shirt and thighs, and then leaned a hand down to Jim. Jim's eyes were cold, icy and remote, but, to his surprise, Race smiled at him.

To his even greater surprise, Race pulled him into a fierce hug as he hauled him to his feet. The noise that spurted out of Jim sounded suspiciously like a squawk.

"You are a good man, Jim Ellison. You've got the chance to be a great one. I don't know where you come from, but _this_ family believes in you now. If you're anything like me, that should be enough to turn you around."

He pulled back, leaving one hand on Jim's shoulder. "If Benton and those kids can turn an old Secret Ops killer into their own private hero and teddy bear, they can dissolve your weird hang-up about all this. If you let them." Blue eyes met blue eyes. "You should let them. It'll save you."

"I...don't think I need them for that," Jim finally answered. His jaw tensed for a moment, but he managed to say, "I think Sandburg has been doing that for me all along. I just...I'm not there yet."

"Well, get there, then," Race said, turning back to the house.

"What, just like that? Just '_get there_?'" Jim called, his anger rebuilding.

Race looked over his shoulder and shrugged. "How else do you expect to get anywhere but by moving forward? Your boots glued down? Come on. We've got work to do."

In spite of himself, Jim found himself moving forward. And whether that was metaphorical or just literal, he supposed it didn't matter very much after all.

Race was right about one thing, anyway. There was work to do.


	12. Chapter 12

Some of the earliest stuff I wrote appears in this chapter. What's funny is, like so much else, I was defining concepts here that you won't see until Arc 3 or even Arc 4 later this year. I had to do some pretty hefty editing when I figured out where I was going – can't give it away too soon!

Also, I think my take on the whole post-dissertation conflict between Jim and Blair as presented here is slightly unique. I have seen it in other places, but usually the weight is on the pain of it. I think you can take that whole scenario, tip it on its head, and it becomes a lot more easily let go. I think it's up to you to decide what weight you give to what in your life, and if Jim and Blair make the same decision about that particular episode of their relationship, then moving forward is a lot, lot easier. If less angsty and dramatic. But trust me. Angst is out there. Just you wait.

Enjoy!

* * *

><p>"So, how are we going to do this?" Jonny asked, legs crossed under him on the bed. Jim's abrupt departure had cast a small pall on the gathering, but his enthusiasm hadn't abated.<p>

Blair ran a hand through his hair. "Well, we need to slowly get you used to each sense. You read the dissertation, so you know all about using dials to control them, but it won't work unless you have a context for each sense before you start practicing. I can't tell you to turn the dial up to 10 if you don't know what 10 feels like."

"Makes sense," Jonny nodded.

"But to get the absolute limit of your senses, we're probably going to push you into a zone-out more often than not," Blair admitted.

"Is that dangerous?" Benton asked.

"Not if we can bring him right back." Suddenly Blair's eyes narrowed speculatively and he turned to Hadji. "You know, you were pretty good at bringing Jaga out of a zone when we were in that maze. Think you're up to helping me with Jonny?"

"Me? Um, certainly," Hadji nodded.

"Hadj, what's wrong?" Jonny turned to him. "I can hear your heartbeat. And it's kind of fast."

"I am…merely nervous about overtaxing your energy, my friend."

Jonny nodded, but he shot Hadji a look he knew his brother would understand. Hadji sounded absolutely sincere, and even the family that knew him so well didn't doubt him, but Jonny knew that Hadji's heart-rate had gone up another notch. Jonny knew his brother was lying, even if he didn't know why. The look he shot Hadji was meant to tell him so, but also to say that he wouldn't press it in front of the others.

If Jonny had to guess, he'd bet something happened between Hadji and Jaga, something Hadji wasn't ready to admit.

If that something had hurt Hadji, Jonny would make Jaga sorry and that was a _promise_.

"I would also like to assist," Benton said. "I am certain you do not require my help, but I would like to learn everything I can. I've got a Sentinel for a son now." He smiled at Jonny.

"Jess?" Jonny turned to her.

"Yeah, count me in!" she nodded. "It was interesting when it was just academic. I can't wait to see everything in action."

"Let's go out into my lab," Benton said. "There's more room." Everyone acquiesced, and Benton strode out to begin setting up chairs, but Blair remained behind, letting everyone but himself and Jonny process out the door first. Blair placed himself just a step behind the young Sentinel. Just before Jonny reached the threshold, he tensed.

The instant Jonny left the room which, unbeknownst to him was lined with white noise generators, the ear-shattering cacophony of the world hit him _hard_.

Jonny didn't know he'd folded to his knees, hands pressed to his ears in an attempt to ward off the sound. He felt like his brain was _exploding_. He could hear the frizzle of the computer equipment in the house, the surveillance systems and the fences and the sensors, the fridge running, Bandit panting, some kind of argument between Race and Jim, Jaga running towards the house, birds, insects, a plane soaring overhead, the ocean, _dear lord the ocean_, cars on the road a mile away, the shifting of the house's foundations, the screaming wind…

Blair and Hadji did not hesitate, having seen Jaga in such a position many times in the previous week. Both grabbed for Jonny, latching onto his sleeves rather than his skin, knowing their touch might only make it worse. As one, they hauled the keening, trembling young Sentinel back into the med lab, yanking him so fast he never even realized he was stumbling until he hit the bed.

"Jonny!" Benton cried out, racing to his son. But Hadji spun and held his arms out, stopping Jessie and his father.

"Don't," he whispered. "He is already overwhelmed. You must not aggravate his senses if you can help it." He put one hand on his chest. "Speak very softly and do not touch him. Slow your heart and your breathing. Be the stillness in his storm."

Jessie could feel her own pulse racing, and a few deep breaths did nothing to calm it. She glared at Hadji. "All that yogic training makes it easy for you. Most of us can't just will our hearts to slow down."

"You can," he told her firmly. "If anyone I know can bind their body to their will, it is you, Jessie. None have as strong a soul as you."

She blushed, and the compliment did serve to calm her, as Hadji had hoped it would. That, along with her continued deeper breathing brought her body back to steadiness. Beside her, Benton, too, was quieting himself.

On the bed, Blair was easing Jonny's hands away from his ears where he'd started to scratch at himself and might continue until he bled if not prevented. He was speaking, Sentinel-soft, using Jonny's current state to demonstrate the hearing dial which was now set at 10. In a few minutes, Jonny's own panic abated as he slowly fought with himself and, agonizing inch by inch, gained control. Finally, exhausted, he looked up shakily.

"Is that what life is like for Jim all the time?" He gulped. "How is he not insane? How is _any_ Sentinel not insane?"

"Because they learn," Blair said firmly, speaking in a normal tone again. "They practice and learn. Your brain is hardwired not just to perceive so much, but also to control the input. That's what makes you a Sentinel. You just have to train it."

"Okay. Okay," Jonny let out a shuddering breath. "Kind of less fun now, but I get what you're saying. I really do. And, hey! Now we know how to find 10 on a dial! When I think I'm going to die, that's 10. Got it."

Everyone smiled at Jonny's return of good cheer even as they saw the shadows in his eyes for the first time. They all knew – and finally Jonny himself knew – how hard this was going to be.

"Let's start over," Blair said. "We'll stay in here and work on sight and touch first and _then_ try you with hearing out there."

Even as Hadji and Jessie started pulling a few of the cots closer so they could sit, Benton and Blair exchanged glances. This was going to be a _long_ process.

By the time Jim and Race had finished their "conversation" and returned to the house, Jonny had already zoned twice on sight and had given himself a rash from the soft pajamas. He was frustrated and annoyed – not to mention itchy – but still determined to keep working at it. Maybe more determined than ever.

"Sometimes even the monkey falls from the tree, right Hadj?" Jonny was asking ruefully as he smeared a mild cream on the rash.

"If you are quoting one of my sayings, I believe you are doing it incorrectly," Hadji shook his head with a fond smile, "but the meaning remains."

"And I thought _you_ were cryptic, Chief," Jim said from the doorway. It didn't take Sentinel sight to spot the dirt on his clothing and Race's, but it also didn't take Sentinel sight to see that Jim's smile was easier than it had been in days. "That's downright incomprehensible."

"Clearly you lack the wisdom to comprehend," Hadji replied with his nose in the air. "But the wise owl is cursed with crows for brothers, after all."

Benton and Blair chuckled.

"I think he just called us bird brains!" Race entered the room with a swagger and a grin. "Not nice from the guy who taught you how to fly. Not to mention kick, punch, and block."

"Is that a hint, dad?" Jessie asked shrewdly.

"Yup," Race nodded. "I'm calling a mandatory training exercise for everybody except the new boy wonder over there," he gestured at Jonny. "He can keep on working on the senses with the experts, _without_ an audience."

Benton was about to argue, but a look from his best friend silenced him. He knew Race well enough to trust the man had good reason for his decisions and therefore not to question them. Benton trusted Race with everything – his life and his son's lives chief among them – so he simply nodded.

"I'm going to invite Jaga to join us, too," Race said. "He'll be able to talk about how Jonny might respond to things when he's got his feet under him, so we'll be ready." He put one arm around Jessie and one around Hadji and calmly steered them to the door, Benton in his wake with Bandit reluctantly trailing after. But he turned back and pinned Jim with a look. "I'm counting on you, Ellison."

"I know," Jim nodded.

Race swept from the room and disappeared. Blair looked at his partner questioningly.

"Long story, Chief," Jim shrugged. "I'll tell you later."

"Oh, _fine_!" Jonny sighed dramatically. "Don't tell me anything. See if I care!" Then his face twisted in a smile. "But if we work on hearing next, I might be able to listen in next time!"

"You know," Jim gave a sly smile, "it turns out there is something worse than another Sentinel."

"What's that?" Blair asked.

Jim reached over and, even cognizant of Jonny's shaky sense of touch (and more importantly of needing to ground the kid with his own hardiness rather than face Sentinel training afraid of the slightest thing), grabbed him and scruffed his hair with some force. "_Teenagers_ with Sentinel abilities!"

-==OOO==-

By the time they quit for the day, working straight through dinner until even Jonny had to admit he was exhausted, he had at least the beginnings of a baseline for his senses. After they'd waited to make sure the kid actually got to sleep without trouble, Blair and Jim headed upstairs to one of the small libraries, the former chattering eagerly about the progress of the day and the latter listening with half an ear. Blair knew Jim's mind was elsewhere, and in truth, so was his. And he would have bet they were thinking along the same lines.

Once inside the library, Blair shut the door and said as casually as he could, "That's five senses started, and one to go."

Immediately Jim turned to him with his face darkening. "Not sure what you mean by that, Sandburg."

"Yes you do," Blair crossed his arms. "We made great progress with Jonny today. I mean, he's even trying to sleep without half of the white noise machines! That's awesome for just one day!" He sobered. "But now he's going to start dreaming. And we both know what happens next."

"Not necessarily," Jim replied. "Not everybody has crazy dreams."

"But all _Sentinels_ do," Blair argued. "Jaga told me so."

"Well, since when did you start trusting _Jaga_ over me?" Jim sneered. "I thought all this time I was your holy grail. Now I'm back to being a lab rat? An _underperforming_ lab rat?"

Blair ignored the dig, knowing it for a deflection. "Jim, you're missing the point!" He got in Jim's face.

"Yeah?" Jim glared. "And what exactly is the point?"

Blair's eyes flashed dangerously. "You're never going to be able to teach Jonny to be a Sentinel and control his senses if _you_ don't want to be one in the first place!"

Jim opened his mouth to retort but Blair silenced him with a rough gesture.

"Don't feed me that line about how you decided the senses come in handy sometimes," he snapped. "Being a Sentinel is about a lot more than your five enhanced senses, and you've got to deal with _all_ the stuff that comes with it or you're just going to make it harder on Jonny who doesn't have the luxury of pretending half of it doesn't exist!"

Jim felt himself stop under his partner's fierce anger. His sharp remark died before it reached his tongue and he cleared his throat. "Tell me what you mean, Sandburg."

"Remember what happened at the fountain?" Blair almost slammed the words in his face. Jim physically flinched. "Yeah, that!" he pointed. "Remember what you told me? That you 'weren't ready to take that trip with me.' Well, guess what? Now you've got to!"

"All that mystical vision quest stuff, Chief," Jim ran a hand over his hair. "It's all just…"

"No! Stop right there!" Blair didn't back down an inch. "You're dismissing it like a bad dream. But sometimes there really _is_ a monster in the closet. You've heard the saying – it's only paranoia if they're not out to get you. Well, open your eyes, big guy. We _both_ know what our job is here. You can't just ignore that and pretend it didn't happen."

"Why not?" Jim demanded. "Why do I have to buy into all this stuff? The senses at least can be proven. Why do I have to take all the rest of it as fact when it could just be that you ate a bad burrito?"

"Oh my god," Blair chuckled darkly and took a shaky step backwards. "It's not just that it wigs you out to be dealing with the metaphysical. It's _me_." He reached for a chair to lean against at the impact of the thought. "It's _me_."

"Chief, no," Jim denied quickly.

"You _never_ fought Incacha on this stuff the way you fight me!" Blair returned sharply. "You hated it because you knew it was _true_, not because you didn't want to believe! It's _me_ you can't believe in!" His chest heaved and they both realized at the same moment that Blair was fighting back tears even if neither man could have said why.

Jim felt himself step forward, but he couldn't quite bring himself to touch his friend, so he just closed the distance and held still. "Chief…Blair..."

Blair looked up, his eyes harsh points of light against his feelings.

"There's no one I would rather believe in than you," Jim said, deliberately maintaining eye-contact. "You're not the same kind of shaman Incacha was, but we don't live in the same world he did. There's nobody else I want telling me about spirit animals or visions or whatever."

"Then _why_?" Blair asked, much of his anger and sudden sorrow melting to confusion. "_Why_ do you fight it so hard?"

Any other time, Jim might have refused to answer or lied or evaded. But the fight with Race came alive in his mind. Race's rejoinder to let Blair change him. To remember that there was someone new who was facing being a Sentinel, and the words came spilling out.

"Because it's too big, Chief," Jim answered honestly. "It's bad enough being the only Sentinel in the world charged with the responsibility of managing these senses and protecting the tribe and all that stuff. But to also be facing _visions_ and _magic_ and _ghosts_ and all that? It's too big for me." He smiled deprecatingly. "The real world is overwhelming enough. You really think I can hack the spirit world on top of it?"

"First of all," Blair found a small smile of his own breaking through, "it turns out you're not the only Sentinel in the world. You're a rare breed, it's true, but you're part of a genuine demographic in the world now, Ellison. We just didn't know it before."

Jim shrugged noncommittally.

"Secondly, from everything I learned from Jaga, I think you're looking at this all wrong."

"How so?" Jim asked.

"Well, think of it this way. I'd have a tough time Guiding you through your senses if I didn't have any senses of my own, right? I mean, I could probably do fine if I didn't have a good sense of smell or if I had really awful vision, but I need to understand the input you're getting at a basic level to have any chance of helping you with the extreme level you take in, right?"

"I guess so," Jim said.

Blair continued eagerly. "Jaga said that a Guide becomes a shaman for the Sentinel, that they work as a partnership and between them they can unlock a much greater power. So maybe your awareness is to help you help _me_ with what _I_ have to do in this equation. We've never really looked at the Sentinel thing in terms of a binary system, but that's what it sounds like it's supposed to be. I mean, a Sentinel or a shaman can go along okay without each other, but something _better_ happens when they work together."

"You're saying all the mystical stuff I get is like normal vision compared to what you're supposed to get?" Jim frowned. "But you don't get visions and stuff."

"I didn't before, no," Blair admitted, "but all shamans have to go through a training period. And maybe I couldn't even be a proper shaman until I'd died anyway – lots of cultures believe you can't truly touch the spirit world until you have been part of it..."

Suddenly Blair looked up, his face bright. "Jim! Jim, I just got it!"

"Got what, Chief?" Jim put a hand on his partner's shoulder, almost to keep him from jumping out of his skin.

"We did it all in the wrong order, so no wonder it's all messed up now!" he crowed. "Look, most shamans get trained from a young age, doing meditations, spirit journeys, that kind of thing. And I definitely had my share of exposure to it growing up, but I haven't touched a lot of that stuff in the last few years."

"So?"

"So! Sentinels are _also_ supposed to be Sentinels from childhood, honing their senses until control is second nature to them! But yours got repressed not once, but twice! And I had some of the baby steps towards leaning the craft of a shaman's work, but then I got into the habit of studying it as an anthropologist rather than practicing it."

Blair broke away and started pacing.

"If you and I had grown up in a tribe like Jaga did, by the time you were a teenager you'd have been a full Sentinel and I'd have been a full shaman. We'd have met as equals and we could have combined our spirits and it would all be copacetic. But by the time we joined our animal spirits, you were already a full Sentinel, but I was way far from being a full Guide. All this time, you've been coping with your sixth sense without any help from me because I didn't realize I should be doing it. I can't see through your eyes, but I bet after what happened at the fountain I'm supposed to share your visions and probably get a lot more of my own."

"So, if we'd grown up knowing we were going to be a Sentinel and a Guide, you'd be doing mystical stuff the same way I do senses stuff?" Jim asked.

"Not just mystical stuff," Blair shook his head. "Shamans don't just walk the border between this world and the spirit world and negotiate it for their people. They're also the teachers, the keepers of knowledge and tradition so subsequent generations learn the lessons they need to survive and thrive."

"Well, you've got that part down, professor," Jim said lightly.

"Exactly!" Blair was almost vibrating as his thoughts flew. "It's like…you'll always be driven to protect your tribe and ensure justice among the people, and you'll do it using your senses like you do now as a cop. And I'm driven to teach and learn and share that information to help people, and I'll do it with my own shamanic gifts. Some of those are mystical in nature, but some aren't. Some are just part of being me. We're supposed to be working together for the tribe, one to defend it and watch over it, and one to teach and guide it forward, and our abilities should give us each an advantage where we're strongest."

"But we never did think about the Sentinel thing as really being a full partnership," Jim acknowledged. "It was more like I took the lead and you, well, you know."

"Acted like a sidekick," Blair nodded. "Stayed in the truck, out of the way, helping from a distance if at all. It was always _you_ taking the lead, you _sheltering_ me. And because of that, you've probably been unconsciously deflecting some of the mystical stuff the same way you put yourself between me and all the other dangers. But that makes it too much for you when it's my work to carry."

"But other than that ghost thing, I haven't really had any visions since Mexico."

"And that's because you shut down that sense on the both of us since you didn't want it and I didn't know I should go looking for it," Blair nodded. "It's a theory, anyway. And if we can work on it, let me explore my shaman side and see how that changes me as your Guide, we can really stretch this thing out and make some progress!"

"But that means I have to accept that it's all real," Jim finished. "The jaguar and your wolf and the rest of it."

"Not just accept it," Blair stopped his bouncy pacing and looked at him. "You have to get comfortable with it. And fast. Because you're the only one who can lead Jonny to his own path. It will be so much easier on him if he doesn't go in afraid of that stuff, if he sees it as a natural extension of his Sentinel nature. Only you can teach him that."

"No pressure," Jim grumbled. Blair grinned cheerfully.

"Knew you could do it!" Then his smile sank a bit and resolved into something much more sincere. "And Jim?"

"Yeah?"

"What you said? About how I'm the one you'd want to believe? Thanks. And…that goes both ways, okay?"

Jim smiled. "Got it."

Words rose in Jim's brain and echoed from long ago. "A Sentinel will always be a Sentinel if he chooses to be, Enqueri." _Every time you said that, Inchacha, it was because I had stopped wanting to be a Sentinel, and that seriously screwed up my senses_, Jim found himself thinking. _Maybe if I had started choosing this part of being a Sentinel sooner, it wouldn't be so hard now_.

Without intending it, Jim found himself listening for Jonny. The kid was mostly asleep, but he was whimpering. It was a low, childlike sound of discomfort and need and vulnerability. And suddenly Jim didn't want Jonny to face his uncontrolled senses and visions and spirit animals the same way he had. He didn't want the kid to think he was losing his mind, to sink so far into himself that he could no longer tell what was real. Or, rather, if all that mystical stuff _was_ real, he didn't want Jonny to face that awful sense of losing his certainty about himself. Jim would never have sent a soldier into a war-zone without providing proper weapons training. Some things were _not_ meant to be figured out by trial and error.

Jim had done enough trial and error of his own. If he could smooth the way for a new Sentinel, it would be better than what he'd been given himself. The kid deserved an easier initiation. Even into the mystical weirdness. But this time, Jonny _and_ Jim would have Blair there to handle that part. To understand it, to tell them they weren't crazy, to interpret it, to _fix_ it. It wasn't like sink-or-swim so much as jumping out of the nest, knowing in theory he had wings, and hoping he figured out how to use them. He wondered idly if this was how new parents felt when they looked at their day-old baby and realized that maybe parenthood had been iffy _before_, but it could never be iffy again now that it was real (and he was suddenly grateful he was probably never going to have any more kids than the ones he was acquiring as friends).

Jim blinked. The jaguar was sitting there, _right there_ in front of him, looking at him.

For the first time, he didn't fight it, didn't pretend he didn't see it, didn't resent it for being there. He looked at it steadily. And as he looked, really let himself look, his apprehension began to fade. He remembered something about horses he'd learned once long ago, how horses tended to shy at new sounds, but if allowed to examine whatever had bothered them, they could become comfortable with it. Maybe he just needed to let himself examine it, acclimatize himself to it. So he did.

The jaguar looked steadily back at Jim, and as the moment lasted and lasted, he felt a strange tightness in his chest dissolve. The jaguar was _himself_. Himself when he wasn't trying to fight or deny his own nature. He supposed there were worse things to be than a jaguar. Hell, there were worse things to be than a Sentinel.

"All right, Blair," he said aloud, never taking his eyes from the jaguar. "You're right. I'll work on the mystical stuff. I want to help Jonny get through being a Sentinel, and if this is how I do that, well, okay. If you want to have mystical visions and stuff, I'm not going to try to stop it anymore. For either of us."

And as with all other things, once Jim had said them aloud, they became real to him.

Blair nodded. Then he gasped. "Jim! I see the-! Oh man!"

Jim smiled wickedly. Apparently things had become real to more than just Jim's mind. "You told me the water was nice a long time ago, Chief. Hope you don't mind getting wet after all."

Jim finally glanced to Blair, whose eyes were wide and shining and his whole face was bright with a strange awe, a wonder-struck joy. _I think it's worth it just for that look on his face_, Jim thought with a surprising answering happiness.

"I don't mind," Blair managed around a throat thick with too much to parse. "I'm glad. Because if I'm your Guide, and I _am_, then this is what I want. This is what it's all about, man."

Jim looked back and saw the wolf sitting beside the jaguar. Both looked…smug. And happy. Then they faded from view.

Jim met Blair's amazed gaze and smiled. "Guess you were right. The water's not so bad."

Blair grinned even as he punched his partner in the shoulder. "It's about time!"

-==OOO==-

The next few days were interesting to say the least. Once Jonny was comfortable enough with his senses not to stay down in the Sentinel-friendly med lab, Blair began running his "class" up in the main library where there was room for everyone to join. Jim was surprised Jonny was okay with so many people sitting in on his lessons, especially because of the sheer awkwardness of it. It was like watching a man try to learn to walk after a bad injury while on national TV. Jim was humiliated on the kid's behalf, but Jonny just raised his chin and pressed forward, never relenting, never apologizing, never retreating from the many eyes following him.

Honestly, the kind of courage that took was doing exactly what Race had said it would – it was changing Jim. If Jonny could bear his family witnessing him fight tears as he tried not to smell the manure being laid in a field several miles away, if he had that kind of trust and comfort, maybe…maybe Jim could let his defenses down. Not around _everyone_, obviously. But around these people? And Simon? And Blair? Yeah, maybe.

But something else started to happen. It began so slightly only Blair noticed it, but then he was practiced in watching peoples interact. After two days, however, the tension he had watched slowly build exploded out of nowhere.

"Stop _looking_ at me!" Jonny bellowed, fists clenching. He stood up so fast he knocked over his chair, facing Jaga angrily. "You're so superior! Well, I don't need this!"

"Easy, Jonny," Race soothed.

"No!" Jonny replied sharply. "You too! You keep _staring_ at me!"

"I'm not," Race shook his head, puzzled.

"Hold up, Jonny," Jim caught the kid as he was about to stalk forward in fury, actually pulling him to his chest and holding on. He looked to his partner. "Sandburg? Got an explanation for this?"

"Yup," Blair nodded slowly. "The more Jonny embraces his Sentinel nature, the more his instincts are emerging. Sentinels are very conscious of their standing in their tribe, and of hierarchy. That, plus his increasing sensitivity as his abilities stabilize is making him react like a young male fighting for a place in the pack."

Jonny actually growled at him, but Blair ignored it. He was used to Jim growling at him and ignoring it. Jonny had nothing on that.

"Perhaps we should remove ourselves for a time," Hadji offered, standing.

"No," Jonny said it quickly, reflexively, like a sneeze. He reached out and grabbed Hadji's elbow. "Don't go."

"But clearly there are too many of us surrounding you for you to focus comfortably," Benton said easily. He'd had his own quiet talks with Blair, plus rereading all the younger man's publications in the last few days. "Did you not explain that most Sentinels hone their skills alone in the wilderness?"

Blair nodded.

"Then I suggest that we move these lessons outside," he said. "You could even camp out on the grounds in the woods. You'd be able to put some distance between yourselves and us along with all of this," he gestured around at the room, "and maybe the peace of the woods would help you continue to adjust." His concerned gaze met his son's and Jonny flushed in embarrassment.

"Dad, I'm so sorry…"

"Don't," Benton held up a hand. "Don't apologize, son. You're going through a transformation that has never before been undertaken. You should never be ashamed of whatever you need to cope with these changes."

"We've still got a week before we need to be back in Cascade," Blair looked to Jim. "A week out in the woods would be good for all of us, I bet." He turned to Race. "Is there fishing out there?"

"Oh yeah," Race grinned. "Tons. And we've got the best gear."

"So who is going?" Jessie wanted to know.

Jim, one arm still around Jonny, looked down at the kid. "It's up to you. Sandburg and I are on-board with this little fishing break, but you have to decide who else feels okay for you to train with for a while besides us. It's your call." Then, in a voice soft enough only the Sentinels in the room could have heard, "Choose carefully, kid."

Jonny gulped. "Well, um, yeah. Being out there sounds…unbelievably good right now. And maybe I'll stop feeling like I want to throw stuff all the time. But…I don't want a lot of people." His eyes fell on each person in the room in turn. "Dad and Race, I don't feel like I _can't_ stand you, but I think I'll do better if I can't just turn to you all the time."

"I understand." And he did. Benton was even proud of his son, his young man, for wanting to stand up without that safety-net that had guarded him for so long. "Besides, I think it's time I started the ball rolling on getting some more information about what we learned from Wellmen Global Reserves about other Sentinels in the world. There are a few old friends I'd like to visit."

Jonny nodded, relieved. He shifted to the next person and his gaze narrowed. "Jaga…no. Just…_no_."

The other Sentinel nodded stiffly, looking like he had expected as much.

"Jess…" Jonny gulped. "It's not that…I mean, I don't…um…"

"It's fine," she said. Jonny peered at her worriedly and she shook her head. "No, really, it is. First of all, fishing's boring."

"Bite your tongue!" Jim scowled mockingly at her. She laughed.

"Second of all, I think I've seen enough for now. I've got the basics down, and I think I can be more help around here. Somebody's got to go through the house and make it a little easier for you to handle, Jonny, and we both know we don't want to leave that to _them_," she jerked her thumb at Race and Benton.

"What's wrong with us?" Race asked with a knowing smile.

"Answer me this," she put her hands on her hips and faced him. "How much do you know about the chemicals in cleaning solutions?"

"Um…" he rubbed his head.

"Right." She turned to Doctor Quest. "And you'll be too busy."

"I can help as well," Hadji volunteered.

Jonny couldn't stop the sudden inhale of breath. "Hadj…" he trailed off.

Hadji turned, his dark eyes fixing on his brother's face. The tension in the room went up a notch. "Unless you feel you wish me to join you?"

Jim could feel Jonny's heart-rate shoot up. But the kid didn't seem like he wanted to admit it.

"Well, if Jonny doesn't mind," Blair slid into the silence effortlessly, "_I'd_ like you to come. I think it helps with more than one person to observe and all that."

"…Yeah," Jonny's voice was a little ragged. "Yeah, come with us, Hadji."

Hadji smiled. "Very well."

Benton's sharp eyes caught a glance between Jim and Blair and he put a hand on his adopted son's shoulder. "Learn all you can from Blair, Hadji. I think you will be the one instructing the rest of us how best to Guide Jonny when our friends go home."

Hadji nodded, and while everyone else began to talk about what supplies to pack and Jonny dashed off to help Race dig out the tents, Jim was left as the only one to hear Jaga's own whispered words, almost too soft for the senior Sentinel to make out.

"Learn well, Sang Beruang. But we shall see who deserves the right to claim you as Guide. We shall see."

-==OOO==-

In the last few hours before they set off for the woods, Jim did eventually sic Jessie on Blair as he had promised, but the outcome wasn't exactly what he had imagined.

"I hear you want to give me an earful," Blair smiled as he looked up from the table, his notes spread around him. He'd effectively taken over a portion of one of the small library-den-sitting-area rooms to compile his ideas before they headed out.

"First, I want to ask you a question," she said forthrightly. When Blair raised his eyebrows and waited, Jessie took a breath. "How could do you it so easily?"

"Do what easily?"

"Give that press conference. Lie to the whole world. Give up everything you'd ever wanted in your life!" Jessie dropped into a chair. "You ruined _everything_ you were about – for Jim. How could you do it?"

"It wasn't easy, Jess," Blair shook his head. "Nothing about that day was _easy_. But I still had to do it."

"No, you—"

"Wait," Blair held up a hand. All his usual energy was stilled in this moment, and Jessie thought he looked infinitely wise as his blue eyes stared unflinchingly into her. "Imagine something for me, Jessie."

She swallowed her rush of words in surprise and nodded.

"Imagine that someone was standing in front of you with a gun. Imagine that your father was there, or Jonny or Hadji or Benton. Can you do that?"

"Of course," she said in a solemn voice. "It's happened more times than I can remember."

"Imagine that person was about to pull the trigger. And nobody had time to react but you. Imagine you couldn't reach the gun in time to stop it from going off. What would you do?"

"I'd…I'd take the shot myself," Jessie answered after a moment.

"Even if it might kill you?"

She nodded more firmly. "I know my dad's the official bodyguard, but we're all family. We would do anything to protect each other. I don't think any one of us would even pause to consider. We'd just react."

"But if you _did_ have time to consider?" Blair pressed. "It wouldn't be easy, but would you still do it?"

"Well…it doesn't matter who the gun would be pointing at. I'd rather it hit me than dad or Doctor Quest or Jonny or Hadji. I'd trade my life for one of theirs in a second. So, yeah, I'd still do it."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yeah," Jessie frowned. Then her eyes widened. ".._oh_."

"Exactly," Blair sat back with a small, sad smile. "If I had taken a bullet for Jim, it would be clearer, but the concept is the same. When it came down to my life or Jim's, I was ready to take that bullet or give that press conference. I'd rather lose my life than see him lose his."

"Yeah, but you…" she broke off, unsure how to finish.

"The thing is, I didn't lose my life," Blair said softly. "My mom taught me that everything happens for a reason. Maybe the reason this happened was so I could become something else. But as long as I still had what was most important to me, it would be okay. I could handle any transformation as long as I didn't lose Jim. Like you said, we're family and I'd do anything to protect him."

"I think I see now," Jessie nodded then, her cloudy expression easing. "When you put it like that, I understand it better. And I think I also understand why Jim was sorry and upset, but it didn't actually tear you two apart."

"Because if I'd been lying in a hospital bed with a bullet in my chest, he'd be sorry and upset and probably furious with me, but he'd still be right there with me," Blair affirmed. "Really, it's not that complicated. The only difference is that my dissertation could never have killed _me_. It _could_ have killed our friendship, though."

"No way," Jessie shook her head as she stood. "Bent and bruised it, maybe. But what you are to each other, that's a lot stronger than something stupid like the dissertation. It's obvious."

"Is it?" Blair was surprised.

Jessie grinned. "Yup!" Then she turned towards the door.

"Wait! Is that the whole lecture?" Blair called after her curiously.

"Sure," Jessie shrugged without turning around. "I've been in this family way too long, I guess, but I ran out of don't-put-yourself-in-danger-for-others speeches _years_ ago. And if it had been me, maybe I'd have done the same."

A moment after she left the room, another door opened and Jim entered. He quirked a brow at his partner. "You're not surprised to see me?"

"Nope," Blair had turned back to his work, but an impish smile clung to his lips.

"You figured I'd listen in?"

"Yup."

"I could have done that from anywhere," Jim pointed out.

Blair finally looked up. "Yeah, but you would have wanted to be close by, just in case."

"Just in case what, exactly?"

"In case she started getting too close to hurting my feelings," Blair answered, a warm light of trust in his face. "You would let her yell at me all day long as long as it helped her, but as soon as she started hitting too hard, you'd have stepped in. Rule number one, right?"

"Don't hurt the Guide," Jim said softly. It was true. He'd pulled the same stunt many times with Simon; the captain was allowed to rake Sandburg over the coals as long as it was for somebody's good, but as soon as those coals actually began to burn his partner for real beyond what he could take, Jim had always put a stop to it.

Blair had turned back to his notes, but Jim was struck by a remaining question. "Is it true, what you said?"

"Which part?" the kid mumbled around a pencil held between his teeth.

"That you see it like taking a bullet for me?"

"Obviously."

"And that you'd rather take a bullet for me than risk losing our friendship? That you didn't mind losing your 'life' as long as you kept me?"

Blair looked up at the quiet tension in Jim's tone. To anyone else, his Sentinel might be idly staring into the middle distance, calm and distracted. Blair knew better. He took the pencil from his mouth and stood, moving to face Jim directly.

"Yes," he confirmed. "You know I'd give my actual life for you, just like I know you'd do it for me in a heartbeat. Compared to that, this wasn't so much to ask."

"It was _everything_," Jim returned. "It was your _life_. You said so yourself."

"No way, man," Blair said with a deep contentment. "Maybe I thought so when it was fresh, but now? This, what we have here, this Sentinel-Guide stuff? This friendship? _This_ is everything. _You_ are my life. Nothing else even registers on the scale."

Jim felt a bright smile breaking out on his face that few ever saw, and that was becoming more and more common around his undoubtedly amazing partner. "So we're okay?"

"Yeah," Blair's smile matched his for incandescence. "We always were, man. We always were."


	13. Chapter 13

Most of this chapter was written before I was halfway through chapter 6 or 7, I think. I tend to do that. All the upcoming Arcs in this series have bits of the end written sometimes before I'd even started on the beginning.

Next update will have a long and necessary author's note, but I'm going to wait until then to spew The Many Thinkings of Mendeia at you all. Until then, welcome to the wider world that is developing. From this point on, there really is no going back.

Enjoy!

* * *

><p>"Thank you for seeing me today, Ambassador," Doctor Quest shook the offered hand. "I know how busy you must be."<p>

"It is no problem for such a long-standing ally," Sergei Petrovich sat in the plush chair and indicated for his guest to be seated as well. "I miss our stirring debates of the old days, my friend."

Doctor Quest smiled. "There are very few men with whom I can disagree so strongly and yet so enjoy the disagreement. It was easier when you were not quite so well known, however." He glanced around the Russian embassy meaningfully.

"Ah, yes. I too miss those days where a man was a scholar and a scientist, and he did not have to be a politician as well." He sighed dramatically with more than a touch of humor.

"You do it very well, to have come so far," Benton commented lightly. "But I have a matter I must discuss with you."

"A matter for Ambassador Petrovich, or for Doctor Petrovich, your old correspondent?" Then he leaned forward with a shrewd gleam. "Or perhaps for Sergei who taught you to sneak out of an overcrowded scientific convention through the laundry chute?"

"A bit of all three, I think," Benton nodded solemnly. "But based on our history, I am hoping that in whatever capacity you answer me, we may keep our topic to ourselves."

"You may rely upon my utter secrecy. May I have your word on that as well, Benton?"

"You have my word – nothing of which we speak will be shared with any other government, including my own. I'm not here for them. I'm here for myself alone." Benton felt himself relax fractionally. It was an easy promise to make, after all, and nothing short of the truth.

"Very well. Then ask away, my old friend." Sergei sat back and smiled benignly.

"What do you know about Sentinels?"

The Ambassador was silent for several moments. Benton remembered this habit well from days decades prior when he and a much younger Doctor Sergei Petrovich had debated everything from the politics of the day to the nature of quantum particles. Benton recognized the silence not as hesitation, but prioritization.

"I know a great deal," he said at last. "And if you are asking me this question, you do too. Tell me what specifically you wish to know about those you call Sentinels and I will answer if I can."

"Hypothetically, if a government were utilizing Sentinels in their programs, how would they go about recruiting them?"

"How does a government recruit athletes for international competition?" Sergei replied. "How does a government recruit geniuses to work in their agencies? How does a government recruit soldiers of the highest caliber?"

"They would start young," Benton said slowly. "In childhood, perhaps in the schools, looking for the right kind of aptitude and physical abilities. They would encourage those children they identified to attend special training schools to hone their abilities. They would map out a development and education regimen to produce the best possible results."

"Exactly," Sergei shrugged.

"But this isn't like athletes or even geniuses," Benton shook his head. "Sentinels are rare, rarer even than true prodigies. Even a large government may only come upon a few dozen Sentinels in a generation."

"Yes, and this would be a very grave hypothetical problem, especially in cases where a government knew well that its enemies would use any means necessary to acquire such specialized skills. As with all things, many tactics have been tried and only a few remain." For a moment, he shifted in his chair uncomfortably. "You must already know that what makes a Sentinel is genetic in nature."

"Yes," Doctor Quest nodded. That he also knew a bit more than that he kept to himself.

"Then I imagine you can anticipate some of what has been tried in the past."

"Eugenics. Breeding programs. Genetic tampering." Benton's heart went cold inside his chest. "Forced reproduction? Ethnic cleansing?"

"Not anyone's finest hour, I admit," the Ambassador acknowledged. "In the time of the Iron Curtain, a man who could hear a whisper at a distance of a half-mile, who could read classified documents from two buildings away, who could tell a spy by scent, was a very great asset and a very great fear. Sentinels and partial Sentinels were worth more than their weight in gold. They were worth their weight in state security and secrets. They were worth _nations_. Of course many would go to great lengths to increase their numbers."

Benton bit down on the emotion threatening to make him lose his composure. "So, _hypothetically_, people like that would be carefully controlled. Mated, even against their will, to those with the correct genetic likelihood to produce other Sentinels."

"Not until their usefulness had ended," Sergei put in. "Sentinels working for any government would be under profound stresses. They are already prone to overextending themselves and burning out or going mad from the chaos of sensory input. A Sentinel in his prime would not be at risk for anything more untoward than a dangerous assignment."

"Except that Sentinel might not have volunteered for _any_ assignment," Doctor Quest argued. "They would have been conscripted. I'm talking about forced labor, a person taken from their home and pressed to duties without any option for refusal because of their genetic advantages."

"On the other hand," the Ambassador tipped his head, "many juvenile Sentinels were on the cusp of madness to begin with. In your country you drug them and lock them up or watch them run away and become wanderers of the street hearing voices and unable to abide human touch. In another _hypothetical_ nation, they would be rescued from such a fate, handed over to authorities who knew how to manage their environments to ease their struggle."

Doctor Quest clenched his hands. "I've seen some documentation. There's a difference between making an environment comfortable and indoctrinating learned helplessness. Those Sentinels would have been totally dependent on their keepers, unable to exert independent control. It's not different from finding a man with a disease, pressing him into service, and compensating him with medicine that only temporarily alleviates his symptoms rather than curing him and letting him go free."

"Your analogy has merit, but recall I said that things were different in the past." Sergei let out a long breath. "Without hesitation, I can tell you than any Soviet breeding facilities have been long since closed down. If for no other reason, the difficulty of policing a controlled facility full of people who can perceive monitoring devices was not worth the cost."

"So how is it done now?"

"Which? The breeding of Sentinels or the utilization of them in general?"

"Both," Benton said, his anger still potent, if controlled.

"Thanks to the advances of modern medicine, no unwilling Sentinel is required to breed with anyone, state-controlled or otherwise. Instead, they submit to extraction of genetic material as needed and their progeny is conceived artificially."

"Which means you take sperm and egg from the candidates you want and raise the resulting children inside the system rather than by any sort of parents, biological or otherwise," Benton concluded.

"Would it surprise you to know that these children are _not_ raised from infancy in an orphanage or a sterile environment?" the Ambassador raised an eyebrow. "A child who lives life inside a government's hospital will never cope with the chaos of an outside world. No, any children that result from the artificial conception are adopted by families and raised in a home environment, albeit a carefully monitored environment. And the parents are vetted and approved at the highest levels, of course. Most are former soldiers who have worked with Sentinels and know what to expect and how to cope."

"Well, that's better than I expected," Doctor Quest found himself admitting.

"We are not monsters, Benton," Sergei said with a sharp defensiveness. "Sentinels are precious beyond belief and as fragile as any child if not moreso than their peers. Their minds cannot be broken or weakened or they will not survive their first test of battle or their senses will fade under the pressures before they reach adulthood. Such a system would go to any length to ensure a child's well-being in order to propagate the desired result."

"But I imagine not all programs are so kind," Benton said lowly.

"And you would be correct. There are as many variations as there are nations who know of Sentinels and choose to use them in their service. Some are magnanimous and some are akin to serfdom. But the worst are the independent agencies who produce Sentinels like so many vats of oil to market to the highest bidder. If you seek an enemy for your ire, look to the mercenaries who raise and dispose of Sentinels as others do with dogs bred for a fighting ring."

"So how are Sentinel children brought into state service now? As I assume they don't get to decide to become nothing but bakers or secretaries or plumbers. Hypothetically," Doctor Quest added after a moment.

"I return to my original question. How are the most elite of athletes brought to represent their nations in international sport? They are raised to it. Once their strengths are established and have proved not to vanish over time, they are given the best opportunity to hone and utilize those strengths."

"It's still forced labor," Benton felt his patience slipping. "A child who could be a record-breaking gymnast may or may not be forced into the governmental sports program – that's a debate for another day and another time – but a child who is born a Sentinel gets _assigned_ to those programs and schools, don't they? It goes way beyond pressure and expectation and into coercion."

"There are exceptions. A child with an unstable psychological profile who is not fit for government service will not be accepted, for example. Or a child whose senses cannot ever be controlled. Can you imagine a Sentinel who cannot stand the touch of fabric serving as a bodyguard on national television?" Sergei smiled, though it did not quite reach his eyes.

"And what happens to those deemed unfit for service?" Benton wanted to know.

"It depends. Sometimes they simply disappear. Sometimes they take positions with corporations or private entities who can use their abilities and overlook their faults."

"And sometimes they wind up with those independent organizations you were talking about as breeding material," Benton finished angrily.

"Perhaps."

"A man is not a racehorse, Sergei," Doctor Quest said tightly. "And I don't agree with that treatment for animals, either. Dress it up all you want. You are telling me that the very best case for a Sentinel in a country that knows about them is that they will be forced into programs that will prepare them for a life of service with very little chance of making any other choice. That the very best a Sentinel child can expect growing up is to one day don a military uniform and give up their life to serve and protect."

"As they have been served and protected," the Ambassador said archly.

"And what happens when they retire or else their senses go dormant? Or when they are hurt in the line of duty? Or when their senses get beyond what they can control even with the government's help?"

"What happens to high-level agents in your CIA or NSA or FBI when they leave their agencies?" he returned.

"They leave. They become civilians and they live their lives without interference."

"Is that really true?" Sergei leaned forward. "Is that truly how it works in the land of the free? Shall I tell you how many agents are made to _disappear_ to keep their secrets from being lost, even in your precious country?"

"This is a democracy," Benton said stubbornly.

"So is Russia." The Ambassador smiled like a satisfied cat.

Doctor Quest was about to reply sharply, but he caught his breath. Sergei had a point. He hated to admit it to himself, but _Sergei had a point_. Benton knew well what his experience working with the government had shown him. He knew much of Race's history, and of the long fight they'd both suffered to extract Race fully from his governmental service permanently. It might not be common, but it could be true that not only authoritarian regimes disposed of their dangerous agents rather than release them.

"This…this is why…" Benton sat back, his anger gone in a wash of shock. "This is why the US government doesn't knowingly employ Sentinels."

"Why no self-avowed Western democracy does," Sergei nodded, his voice low. "They know of the existence of Sentinels. They must. They have certainly interrogated enough of them. Someday I will tell you a story of the games played in Berlin behind the wall and how the West tried to overcome spying without any Sentinels on their side."

"The US government _might_ have Sentinels on its payroll. It almost certainly does," Doctor Quest was thinking aloud more to himself than his host. "But there's no programs like that. After the backlash against Nazi Germany, anything that looked remotely like a eugenics program would never have made it past Congress. And anything that looked like slavery or indentured servitude would have been out even earlier."

"Notwithstanding what goes on in your oh-so-enlightened prison system," the Ambassador cut in, though he was ignored.

"When did the Sentinel programs start being run by the governments?" Doctor Quest asked quickly.

"Sentinels have been known in my country for generations, my friend. Genetic testing confirms that, like how some inherited disorders are more common in certain population groups, the genes that contribute to creating a full Sentinel tend to run in Mongol blood. But the government did not recognize the full extent of them or their potential until the First World War."

"Which is why Sentinels are virtually unknown in the West," Benton's eyes widened. "Not a lot of Mongol blood the farther away from Eastern Europe and Asia you go. Tribal society had been dismantled hundreds of years earlier in Western Europe, and anything that called back to what they would have called barbarians would have been immediately suspect. But the genetics are still in all of us, and the potential remained."

"What did a good British man of the Empire care if, as he traveled in comfort and style over the steppes, every village he reached knew of his coming well in advance? What did a brazen American see in the Wild West but savages whose mysticism was nothing but witchcraft and heresy? If not for the Mongol bloodline, there might have been no Sentinels known in my country, either," Sergei said. "And what we learned, we shared with our allies."

"Which explains the concentration of Sentinels in countries that were part of the Soviet Union or China and their closest ideological allies."

"And why your government cannot ever release the knowledge of such people to their public," Sergei nodded. "Today your people fear those who wear turbans and have dark skin such as your adopted son. Imagine their fear were they to learn that those who can see and hear to inconceivable distances are in the employ of your nation's political enemies. Nations your country foolishly conflates with terrorists."

"I understand your point. Believe me, I do," Benton said, "but I am still not comfortable with what you have said about Sentinels who work for those governments now. They still sound like racehorses to me. Raised from infancy in the best surroundings to ensure when the gate opens that they will be able to run until their bodies wither. But never do they have the choice to not run at all without the threat of a looming glue factory."

"As an Ambassador, on this point I must concede a difference of opinion will remain." Sergei sighed and his shoulders slumped visibly. "As a friend and fellow humanitarian, Benton, even in the best cases, I think you may have the right of it."

"What if…" Doctor Quest leaned forward, speaking intently, his heart seized with sudden certainty and passion. "What if there were another option?"

"Even you with all your influence cannot sway a government as entrenched in its ways as mine."

"Not the government, Sergei. The people. Sentinels who want another option. Children who would choose a normal life rather than military service. Sentinels turned away because of sensory chaos who would become targets and victims."

"What are you suggesting, Benton?"

"If there were…let's say a humanitarian organization with enough funding and resources to assist certain kinds of people in need, would there be a way to get them into the arms of that organization?"

"An organization I assume that would not only shield and protect these individuals, but train them to use their gifts at will without the coddling influence of a governmental system? An organization with the clout to ensure safety and eventual citizenship for these…refugees?"

"Exactly."

"This organization would not be able to penetrate the system to rescue the young, not at first," the Ambassador warned. "They are the most well-guarded, of course. But those who are at the edge of chaos, whose senses are already suspect, if a few of them disappeared, who would notice? Like wolves who know their time has come, many slip away into the night to die. And no one searches for a dying wolf."

Benton nodded. "But perhaps that wolf would instead find another den in which to shelter if they wished."

"No Ambassador could ever know of such a thing, nor approve of it in any way, nor admit to any form of collusion," Sergei said softly. "But a doctor of sciences and humanity might. As long as he trusted this…organization. And whoever was behind it."

"I think he will." Benton felt a powerful sensation galloping around in his stomach.

"This would not be a whim, Benton," Sergei warned. "This would not be an investigation or a project you could pick up and put down as the interest strikes you. This would require a lifetime of dedication and resources and study."

There was a tap on the door and an aide spoke through the thick wood. "Sir? There is a call for you."

"Thank you for your time today, Sergei. Ambassador," Doctor Quest rose smoothly. With a smile, he embraced his old friend. "I appreciate your words of warning."

"Will I be hearing from you soon, then?" Ambassador Petrovich escorted him to the door, but Sergei lingered in his eyes.

"You will." Doctor Quest met his friend's gaze with a steely determination. "Believe me when I tell you I've got the motivation I need for the work of a lifetime. And more than one life may depend on it."

Benton met Race at the airfield in New York so his bodyguard could get him back home only a few hours from when he'd left.

"How'd it go?" Race asked.

"It was...informative. Enlightening, even," Benton said slowly. When the wheels were up, he turned to his oldest friend.

"I think it might be time for us to start making more calls," Benton said at last. "This is so much bigger than we ever knew. And for once, Race, I think I'm in the perfect position."

"How so?"

"What this all needs is money, time, connections, and courage. Know anybody who might have those to spare?"

"I can think of a couple of guys," Race began to smile, "and if memory serves, they've been through a couple of different rodeos together. I bet they can work something out. Particularly if they have three kids between them with twice the passion and energy of their dads."

"My thoughts exactly."

-==OOO==-

On the third day in the woods, Jim was idly whittling a piece of a branch while half-listening to Sandburg's newest training exercise for the fledgling Sentinel when a sound reached him. He made no move nor acknowledged it in any way. Instead, he waited and watched more closely. They were far enough outside the outer perimeter that Jim didn't always hear and feel the buzzing of the extensive sensor net, but he knew well that they were still within range of the house's systems if there was trouble.

Less than two minutes later, Jonny's head snapped up sharply. "Someone's coming," he announced darkly.

Blair looked to Jim who nodded. "Nothing to worry about," he said evenly. But while the two Guides relaxed at that, Jonny tensed even more. He rose from where he had been crouching and stood in a rooted stance. Jim recognized it – it was a strong base from which he could fight.

Not long after, Jaga stepped out from behind a tree into their clearing.

Blair started to move, but Jim held out an arm. He smoothly got to his feet and took up a position next to his partner. "Wait," he said softly.

Blair shot him an incredulous look.

"Trust me," Jim whispered back.

Jaga glanced to Jim and nodded to him once, sharply. Then he refocused on Jonny.

"I don't…I don't want you here," Jonny said, his chest heaving. "I don't know why. I think you should leave again."

"I cannot," Jaga replied coldly, moving farther into the clearing. "I must see for myself first."

But his path was not carrying him directly towards the other Sentinel; instead, he was approaching Hadji.

"Stay away!" Jonny snapped, shifting sideways until he was between them. "I won't let you!"

"Jonny," Hadji said softly from behind him, putting a hand on his shoulder. Jonny did not even glance at Hadji in spite of the calming tone. "My friend, you are being driven by your instincts. You must let your good sense maintain command over your feelings."

"No, Sang Beruang," Jaga shook his head, moving ever closer. "In this you are wrong. Let us be Sentinel."

"What do you want?" Jonny ground out between clenched teeth.

"For my people, an old challenge for warriors like us," Jaga answered. "We are same age, same strength, same Sentinel." He paused and said tightly, "Same Guide."

The tension in the clearing ratcheted another degree higher. Even Blair could almost hear Jonny's jaw grinding. Hadji's face became pinched and he swallowed thickly.

"You want to challenge me?" Jonny menaced. "To a fight?"

"Not fight," Jaga shook his head. "Test of skill."

"No way!" Blair burst out. He strode forward heedless of Jim's warning. "Jonny's been a Sentinel for less than a week. You've been one your whole life. It's not fair!"

"I'll do it," Jonny said, shaking off Hadji's hand and stalking forward until he was almost nose-to-nose with his opponent. "Name it."

"This is _so_ not cool, guys," Blair crossed his arms.

"Sang Sentinel," Jaga regarded Jim around Jonny's furiously looming face. "You decide. Choose competition. Fair now?" he asked Blair, who shrugged with irritation.

"You want me to pick a way to for you to decide what exactly?" Jim asked. "Which of you is big dog? Or—oh." He glanced to Hadji. "Right." He thought for a moment. "Hadji, I'm going to need you to start walking into the woods. Any direction you want, but keep going as far from here as you can get until one of us comes to bring you back."

Hadji looked dubious and still rather unsettled, but he let out a breath and nodded. "As you wish." Without another word he turned and walked into the trees.

"Sandburg," Jim said, "get them both to zone. I'm talking about a total zone-out."

"Are you _serious_?" Blair's eyes were wide with surprise. Jim nodded.

"O…kay. Um, sit down," Blair waved. Jaga and Jonny glared at one another for another long moment before they dropped to the weedy ground. "Sorry, guys." He rummaged around in one of his bags for something. "I brought this to teach you how _not_ to zone, but I guess this works, too," he said. "Just keep your eyes on it for a while. That should do it."

In the grass in front of the pair of them, Blair planted a plastic pinwheel, its petals metallic and shiny, shimmering in the sunlight. The light breeze caught it and it began to spin rapidly. In moments, both Jaga and Jonny were clearly unaware of anything in the world, staring fixedly at the pinwheel.

"Now what are you going to do?" Blair whispered to Jim. He needn't have bothered. He could have shouted and neither young man would have woken from the zone.

Jim smiled. "You'll see."

An hour later, Jim took a cup of water in each hand. In one smooth motion he stepped over the pinwheel and threw the water into the two slack faces before him. Between cutting off their line of sight and the sudden stimulus of the cold water, both Jaga and Jonny broke from the zone, coughing and blinking. Before either could get their bearings or get in each others' faces, Jim spoke loudly.

"First one to find Hadji and bring him back here wins."

Two pairs of eyes widened in realization and the two young Sentinels were off at a dead run into the woods.

"That's clever," Blair approved, stepping forward. "Jaga's got more pure Sentinel advantage, but Jonny knows these woods inside and out, and he knows Hadji better, too. It makes them more evenly matched."

"That's not why I did it," Jim shook his head. "It just seemed right."

"Well, it's genius on another level, too," Blair grinned. "As much as Jonny and Jaga are competing to see who's where in the pecking order, the real thing they're after is the Guide. I don't think this little test will settle it, but maybe it will. You split the baby, Solomon-style. Except instead of cutting Hadji in half and asking them to choose to give up rather than hurt him, you set it up so they've got about even chances to find him. And whoever finds him soonest will probably be the one who needs him the most. The one who is already drawn to him the strongest."

"I hope so," Jim said, "because otherwise we're going to need a boxing ring to sort this out. And I don't want to try explaining that to Benton and Race."

-==OOO==-

In the woods, Jonny quickly outdistanced Jaga, not because he was better at woodcraft but because he knew a shortcut. There was a ravine nearby that bisected this whole area of forest, and for Hadji to have continued on without circling back he would have had to hike north for a bit to get to the makeshift bridge across. Jaga was probably following Hadji's footprints, whereas Jonny abandoned the trail entirely and went straight for the bridge, a rickety bundle of branches they'd lashed together as boys to span the gap.

The hunting was making his blood sing and Jonny felt sure even since becoming a Sentinel he'd never seen or heard so clearly before. Every birdcall was like heavenly music, notes pure and exquisite. Every flower and leaf and tree shone with an infinite spread of colors and textures. But Jonny felt none of that sinking sensation that meant a zone was near – the clarity made him feel awake and alive and focused. He wondered if this was how Jim saw the world all the time.

At the bridge, Jonny paused just long enough to make sure Hadji really had come this way. Yes, there was the scent of all the things Jonny knew so well – Hadji's earthy soap, his fresh turban, the breakfast they'd shared that morning, and under that the scent that was Hadji's own, unique in the world. Jonny charged ahead.

Across the ravine, he paused. Now he would have to track Hadji directly. He could hear Jaga behind him, approaching the bridge, so he had to hurry. He would _not_ lose! Not to Jaga, not to _any_ Sentinel! Not _ever_! Terrorists and monsters and ghosts hadn't come between him and Hadji, and no Sentinel would ever stand a chance as long as Jonny had anything to say about it!

As he dodged around fallen trees and thick stands of undergrowth, he felt a smile cross his face. Hadji was being clever. He was not moving in a straight line anymore, but weaving north and west in turns. He had even backtracked for a few yards before climbing a tree and moving from tree to tree like a squirrel before returning to the forest floor. Jonny followed happily. Jaga was forgotten. This was freedom – the woods and Hadji and nothing else.

Suddenly Jonny stopped moving. Jaga appeared and rushed around him, not even pausing to glance at Jonny. The other Sentinel's face was focused intently. He followed the footsteps only he could see, a hunter in his element stalking his prey.

But Jonny let him go. If this were a pure hunt, Jaga would have the right of it. But it wasn't. Jonny knew they were competing for more than bragging rights. They were competing for status, for authority, and, most importantly, for _Hadji_. And Hadji knew that. Hadji always believed people ended where they needed to be, but that didn't mean he had to make it easy for them. Jonny glanced at his watch. Hadji had been given more than an hour to get ahead of them. His path was weaving north and west, which would eventually lead him to the main road, but Jonny knew better than to trust that. Hadji would never approach the road on a hunt like this. It would be too easy for either Sentinel to get distracted and walk in front of a truck or something.

_Jaga's the better hunter_, Jonny said to himself, _but you're MINE, Hadj. You've been mine since we were kids. And I'm going to prove it_.

Inspired, Jonny closed his eyes and extended his hearing beyond anything he had yet tried even under supervision. He could almost hear Blair's words echoing in his mind as he systematically filtered out every sound. Bugs, forest animals, the wind in the trees, his own heartbeat, a thousand tiny sounds that did not matter. He even identified and filtered out the pair of human heartbeats behind him, knowing they were Jim and Blair, and the one racing ahead that had to be Jaga.

Leaving just one more. One steady, unhurried human heartbeat that was surprisingly slow.

"Hadji," Jonny whispered. He started to run again, following the only sound worth hearing.

While Jaga was heading towards the main road, Jonny was moving off at an angle, more east than north. After a few minutes of his best speed, he broke from the thickest part of the woods to where the undergrowth and heavy trees gave way to the rocky, scrubby margin before the Atlantic. From there, he turned and ran northwards along the coast. Without the dense forest grabbing at him with every step, he sped up considerably.

Hadji's heartbeat had grown louder and louder in Jonny's ears and he found his feet striking the ground in rhythm with it, but at twice the pace. The part of Jonny that had been monitoring Jaga became aware that he was finally turning eastward near the road, dangerously close to their goal.

There!

Sitting calmly, deep in mediation, Hadji was perched just at the edge of the crown of a large boulder, facing out to sea. Jonny burst forward, limbs flying. He didn't need to be a Sentinel to hear Jaga crashing through undergrowth only yards behind him.

Jonny skidded to a halt and scrambled up the boulder, suddenly unsure. His own heart was pounding so hard he couldn't hear anything anymore but the blood rushing in his ears. He was gasping for air, panting as if his lungs had collapsed. Maybe they had. But it didn't matter. Jaga was going to lose.

"_Hadji_," Jonny whispered through his dry throat. The object of his search had not moved nor opened his eyes, his body still and serene. His back was ramrod straight and his legs were folded, and in the bright sunlight he looked golden all over. Even his turban seemed to gleam in Jonny's sight. Hadji's hands were resting one on each leg, palms up and open.

Jonny could feel the power of that moment. He dropped to one knee behind Hadji and stretched out his right hand. He hesitated for one trembling instant before he pressed his hand into Hadji's right palm and felt cool fingers wrap around it.

"Hadji," Jonny said again, reverently, gripping the hand tightly. Suddenly his exhaustion washed away in a flood of relief.

Hadji took a deep breath as he rose out of meditation. He tipped his head back until he could see the familiar face looking over him. "Hi Jonny," he said softly.

"Hi Hadji." Jonny didn't want to relinquish the hand, so he didn't. "Come back to camp now?" he asked.

"Yes, of course." Standing from lotus position was made slightly more complicated when Jonny wouldn't release his hand, but Hadji made no motion to separate them. He did ask, though, "What happened to Jaga?"

Jonny looked around to where he had last known of the other Sentinel's presence. Jaga was long gone, but Jonny extended his senses and quickly tracked him. He was moving off, heading to the south.

"He's going back to the house," Jonny reported. And the ugly knot in his stomach finally uncoiled at that. "I guess this means I won."

"I guess so," Hadji said softly.

The made their way back to the clearing in silence.

-==OOO==-

"Today's the day, huh?" Race sat almost too casually on the front porch. Jessie grinned at him.

"Yup! A week in the woods. I wonder how it went." She hadn't been idle either, taking her responsibility for making the house Sentinel-friendly quite seriously. It hadn't been easy, particularly with her father and Doctor Quest jetting off a few times and taking lots of long, private conference calls. But Jaga had been around to help, and Jessie was nothing if not highly resourceful. The house had probably never been cleaner, and it had never been so carefully stocked.

"The sensor net just picked them up inside the last perimeter ring," Benton reported as he exited the house to wait on the steps. "They'll be here momentarily."

"_HI GUYS_!" Race bellowed loudly, grinning ear-to-ear.

"Geez!" They all heard Jonny yell with annoyance even though he hadn't yet rounded the lighthouse. "Can you _make_ any more noise?"

"Not our fault you can hear us from Canada!" Jessie called back laughingly.

"Not quite," said Blair as they stepped into the cleared part of the yard. All four men looked relaxed, comfortable, and, frankly, happy. While the light air of contentment was common to Jonny and Hadji, seeing Jim Ellison smiling easily, one arm slung around Blair, made the others realize how many faces he had, and how many had been closed to the world.

Jaga stood waiting at the path to the porch. He had not seen Jonny since their fateful challenge a few days prior. This time it was Jonny who approached him steadfastly, breaking away from the group as he did so.

"Jaga," Jonny acknowledged coolly. He was aware of Race and Jessie and his father all watching, not to mention Blair and Jim and Hadji behind him, but his gaze was all for the other Sentinel.

"Sentinel," Jaga replied after a moment. Then he tipped his head to the side, exposing his throat.

Jonny felt something stir inside. He closed the distance between them and, after only a slight hesitation, rested his fingers on Jaga's pulse point. He wondered if he was supposed to feel that same wash of territorial anger he had in the woods, but he didn't. He supposed that meant the battle for status between them was ended. So he asked the only question that was relevant anymore.

"Do you think we can still be friends?"

Jaga's eyes widened and he slowly looked up, Jonny's fingers sliding from his throat as he moved. They studied one another for a long moment, blue eyes meeting brown unflinchingly, until Jaga smiled.

"Yes, Sentinel Jonny. I would like that." He smiled before looking to the others. "I am happy to see all again, Sang Kancil, Sang Beruang, Sang Sentinel."

"Kid, you have _got_ to learn to call people by their real names," Race strode forward grinning.

"Unless you hadn't noticed, my name actually _is_ Jonny," the blond rolled his eyes at the man while receiving a pounding welcome hug. "And the 'Sentinel' part is true enough, too."

"And I kind of like that he calls you a rat, Sandburg," Jim smirked at his partner.

"I am not a _rat_!" Blair exploded. "Come on, man! A kancil is a deer! Practically a second-cousin to stuff like moose and antelope and other manly hooved animals!"

"Are there or are there not housecats larger in size than an average kancil?" Hadji asked archly as Benton Quest greeted him with a half-hug.

"_You're_ supposed to be on _my_ side!" Blair turned on Hadji.

"I think," Jessie snickered, "that Hadji prefers being on the side that is actually backed up by facts."

"Oh my god I hate you all," Blair grumbled. Then he had to duck when Jim grabbed him in a headlock and cheerfully began mussing his hair.

The last of the tension vanished with the laughter that swept through them all and filled the air joyously.

-==OOO==-

"You knew."

Jaga turned from the window, aware with every fiber of his being who was standing there. He had tracked the young man's footfalls though the house. In fact, he had been tracking the footfalls for hours, from the moment they had emerged from the forest. He regarded Hadji and said nothing.

"You knew I would not be your Guide," Hadji said. There was no anger or accusation in his voice, but merely fact.

"Yes."

"Then why did you…" Hadji let out a breath. "Why did you treat me the way you did?"

"Awakened Guide very vulnerable. Open to spirit animal, open to secrets of shaman, but no Sentinel to protect, to keep from dark paths. Awakened Guide walk into forest of mind and never return without Sentinel to call back."

"The same way a Sentinel must be called from a zone-out? But I have spent a lifetime meditating and have never been 'lost' as you say," Hadji shook his head. "The mysticism is not new to me. And if you were not to be my Sentinel, what could you do to anchor me anyway?"

"Other Sentinels not as wise. Other Sentinels drawn to awakened Guide to keep and bind."

"You didn't want other Sentinels trying to forge a connection with me? But we never met any others."

"Could not know for sure."

"Fair enough." Hadji dropped his eyes. "But you made me feel…"

"Peace, Sang Beruang," Jaga stepped close and cupped a hand on Hadji's cheek. "Also need to teach Sang Beruang to accept Guide path. Teach to accept connection. If meant to be Guide to unknown Sentinel, you would not be willing to trust without practice." He smiled a little. "Lucky to have brother-friend for Sentinel."

"Yes, I am."

"Hadji?" Jim stuck his head in the door of the library. "Jessie was looking for you."

"Oh. Thank you, Jim," Hadji smiled. He stepped back from Jaga with a sort of resigned expression, though it could not hide the odd pace of his thumping heart from the two Sentinels. "I'll see you at dinner, then, Jaga?"

"Of course, Sang Beruang."

Jim waited for Hadji to pass him and vanish down the hallway before he stepped into the room and closed the door.

"You lied to him." Jim crossed his arms and faced Jaga with a cold, dangerous glare.

"Better for him to understand this way," Jaga replied.

"Better for _him_ or better for _you_?" Jim shot back. "If you won't say it to him, admit it to yourself. You wanted Hadji to be _your_ Guide. If Jonny hadn't come online, you would have pushed until he was yours."

"My reasons told to him all true," Jaga replied with a touch of heat. "If selfish reason too, can I be blamed? You _have_ Guide. Not even understanding and you have full Guide. At least I know what having Guide _means_."

"What Sandburg and I figure out on our own is none of your business," Jim replied frigidly. "And if you play with Hadji's feelings again, you'll answer to me."

"Not your Guide either."

"No," Jim almost snarled. "Hadji is my _friend_. And more importantly, Hadji is a member of my _tribe_. They both are. And don't you ever forget it."

He strode away.

-==OOO==-

"I don't get it," Jim said afterwards to Blair while they walked in the woods for a little privacy.

"I'm glad you were mad at him," Blair shrugged. "I was mad, too. Doctor Quest and Race didn't want to say anything, being in that awkward fatherly position and all. Somebody had to pull the big brother routine. It was either that or Jessie biting his head off, and I know which I'd prefer."

"Yes but this was different. This was more..." Jim trailed off. Beside him, Blair bounced.

"It's your territorial instincts, probably. You're protective of people who are part of your tribe. And the Quests are now, even if they aren't in Cascade."

"I know what that feels like, Chief. This wasn't quite that."

"Well..." Blair tipped his head to the foliage overhead thinking. "I guess it could be a Sentinel thing."

"Isn't that what I just said it wasn't?"

"No, I mean, a Sentinel-to-Guide thing. Jaga clearly recognized me and Hadji as natural Guides, even if he hadn't yet connected to a Sentinel and you and I are...whatever we are," he rushed on. "It would make sense that Sentinels would be naturally hyper protective of Guides in general."

"Two words for you, Darwin. 'Alex Barnes.'"

"Okay, so it would make sense that _non-deranged_ Sentinels would be protective of Guides," Blair amended. "Think about it. The tribe's survival depends on a few things, and a Sentinel is attuned to all of them: the environment, defending against outside threats, and a continuing lineage. If the kids in a tribe all get killed, the tribe will die off. And if the Guides in a tribe all get killed, the next generation of Sentinels won't have anyone to help them."

"So you're saying on some instinctive level I'm always going to be looking out for anyone who might be a Guide the same way I get territorial instincts about Cascade?" Jim turned it over in his mind. "I gotta admit, it does make a certain kind of sense."

"Of course it does!" Blair grinned. "It's _my_ idea!"

Jim was about to comment on that, but he tipped his head instead.

"What's up?" Blair wanted to know.

"Sounds like dinner. And if all that hinting means anything, I think we're about to have a pretty serious conversation back there too, Chief."

"Good!" Blair bounced to turn back the other way. "Now that it's about time for us to go home, there's a few things to sort out."

They found the big dinning room resplendent with beautiful dishes and cloth napkins and a veritable feast laid out on the sideboard.

"You order a mean catering spread, Doc," Race clapped him on the shoulder as he entered the room.

"Cooking may just be science in the kitchen," Benton replied, laughing, "but it still takes _time_. And if you hadn't noticed, I haven't had a whole lot of that lately!"

"Speaking of which, where did you go all week?" Jonny asked even as he loaded up a plate of his favorites. "We were too far away for me to want to try listening in, but I know you left more than once to go somewhere."

"You're right. Here, sit down, all of you, and let's discuss a few things."

After the short scuffle of Jessie and Jim fork-fighting over the "best" of the succulent chunks of ham, everyone found a place at the table. Those who had been in the woods living off generous but still camp rations and caught fish tucked in hungrily, but those who had been at the house seemed almost nervous.

"Just...spit it...out," Jonny gulped around a mouthful of artichoke hearts.

"Please do not, my friend," Hadji teased him primly. Jonny flicked one of the pretty napkin-holders at him without even turning around.

"There are two parts to this conversation to be had," Benton began awkwardly. "The second is what I am prepared to offer and suggest, but all of that is predicated on the first. Which is a series of questions that, perhaps, no one will be prepared to answer tonight."

"But you're going to ask anyway," Race smiled.

"Yes, I am." Benton's eyes met each person's around the room in turn. "First, do all of you trust me enough to work with me, in secret to begin with but perhaps someday openly, about Sentinels?"

Jaga took a breath and spoke. "I do trust in you, Sang Duktun Quest, but I already know much of plan and I wish to be excluded." At the surprise around the table, he shrugged. "My home is Borneo. I help from there, protect the legend of my people and keep other Sentinels from fate of prisoner." He did not look at Jonny or Hadji sitting side-by-side, but more than one person in the room could feel his focus in that direction.

"I understand," Benton nodded. "I would like to give you a means of communicating with us, however, just in case."

"Of course," Jaga nodded. Then he looked to Jim. "Sang Sentinel, we not of tribe, but as Sentinels both you gave trust and I respect greatly. Trust me now. As Sentinel, you must do this thing he will ask."

"Oh really?" Jim raised an eyebrow.

"Yes." That was Jessie. She glared at her father. "Also, stop using the speakerphone if you don't want even me to overhear it from upstairs through the vents." She looked back at Jim. "Dad was right. Doctor Quest _did_ find a way to fix things. Not just for Blair, but for you, too."

"For me?" Blair looked up.

"We'll get to you," Benton smiled slyly. "But first is my question for Hadji."

"Yes, sir?"

"I know well that you have put off attending university because you have been waiting for Jonny and Jessie to graduate so you all can go together."

"Is that true?" Jonny looked at his brother in surprise.

"For a guy with hyper senses, you're sure blind sometimes," Jessie sighed at him.

"Yes, Doctor Quest," Hadji straightened up and met his father's eyes. "You are correct."

"Then, after recent events, may I suggest you consider Rainier University?" Benton smiled brightly. "Not only can I speak well of the institution itself, but I know a few good men who will be nearby and an extracurricular activity that will be of particular interest once we get a few things in place..."


	14. Chapter 14

Okay, here comes the big Author's Note - and it's an important one, so please humor me and read it all. Please?

First off, this chapter marks the end of Arc 1 of The Temple Steps Alight series. THERE ARE MORE COMING. Check back on Sunday, 3/15 for the start of Arc 2 where things are going to start ramping up in all sorts of ways. If you haven't already, the easiest way to keep track might be to subscribe/follow me on either site (FF or AO3). AO3 at least has the benefit of being able to follow/subscribe to a series instead of a person if you don't actually want to know about all the other stuff I write. Either way, I hope I'll see you back here on Sunday for Arc 2!

That was the easy part. Here's the more substantive part. Which means I have to tell you a story.

The date of Sept 11, 2001 was my first day at college. I was a political science/international relations major from NY, and, as I'm certain you can imagine, the events of that day fundamentally changed basically everything I learned about global politics and the US's place in relation to them. It was a...very interesting time to be studying the ripples that washed through all parts of our government and our world to say the least. What this means is that there are some things that I see differently from people even a few years older than me. One of those is that I never, as an adult, experienced a US wherein there was an INS that was not a part of the Department of Homeland Security. The DHS was born out of 9/11 in almost the immediate aftermath, and whatever you think of it or the decisions that led to it, that was the reality I walked into when I went out into the world as an adult. To be honest, I'm not sure I ever knew there wasn't a DHS prior to that time. It was like the FBI or the IRS - it was one of those facets of the US government that seemed ever-present. To be even more honest, I almost went to work for them. Either that or the State Dept. But that's another story.

Jump ahead more than a decade. I started watching The Sentinel in earnest in February of 2014 and marathoned through it in a couple of weeks. That's when I started this series, and I finished it (5 full arcs) before the end of October in the same year. I stormed through writing an absolutely ridiculous 386,000+ words in the span of a single year, bouncing between characters, adventures, metaphysics, and a complete reinterpretation of TS fandom (I've downloaded something like 600 fics now, and read a lot more than that, so I can say with at least a little certainty that I've walked a few paths that weren't much explored).

It was only when I was taking my beta reader through it all that she realized the oversight I'd made with respect to timing. I'd known I wanted to push the series a bit forward in time just to account for things like an expanded internet and such, but I hadn't recognized my own cognitive bias. I wrote this series in the world in which I live - the post-9/11 world. I wrote it in a world where asymmetrical warfare is a way of life, where the DHS not only exists but has a lot of power and necessary influence in defending the United States. And I wrote it where the DHS has almost a free pass to write their own laws due to the current state of oversight in the US.

This series is not "about" 9/11, but there's no denying the presence of its fingerprints. You'll never see me refer to specifics, but you can't help but see, if you know where to look, the tiny pieces of the geo-political world that was forged in the aftermath of that day. It's already been there, actually, if you go back and reread Chapter 13 again. I found it an interesting study to realize how much of my own perspective was impacted by that event and its fallout - assumptions I never would have recognized had not I written this series and later discovered that it was in the wrong decade. I guess I could claim this to be an AU where 1997 looks as it always did except the DHS got founded earlier, but...I just can't. And I can't pretend it didn't happen, either, or ignore the temporal lack of integrity I'm wantonly practicing here.

To that, all I can say is I'm sorry. They say authors write the wars they know - I guess I did. I ask your indulgence in this.

Basically, to make everything fit, you have to advance both The Sentinel and Jonny Quest: TRA ahead, leaving behind the 1990's and sticking them in the early 2000's instead. But only for this reason. The technology is largely the same (and isn't very relevant given the Quests, who are the ultimate technological cheaters), and there's a giant lack of specific political or cultural references (until Arc 4, where we find out some of our characters have a deep love of Joss Whedon's Firefly series, but that's about it). So the series could almost exist in any time from 1997 forward. But the DHS is going to be a prominent and important force going forward. And rather than rewrite everything to make it more period-correct, I'd rather tell the story that needs telling. It's a story about a world in which the good guys and bad guys surpass national boundaries - in which alliances across continents mean the difference between life and death. This series is a stronger tale for being set in a post-9/11 world. It's not just about having an agent of the DHS involved; it's about having the world understood differently.

So, yes. The Department of Homeland Security appears in this chapter and going forward (the primary representative of which is loosely based off a character by almost the same name from the TV show The Closer which is EXCELLENT BY THE WAY). And now you know why. I hope it makes sense. I hope it's okay.

Anyway. That's enough from me for now. I hope you've enjoyed Arc 1 of The Temple Steps Alight. See you on Sunday for Arc 2!

* * *

><p>The first time Simon Banks laid eyes on his pair of wayward friends was in the anteroom of the Mayor's office.<p>

"Sorry we didn't come by sooner," Jim offered with a small smile. "We've been a little busy."

Simon would have demanded a better answer than that except for the sheer number of strangers standing around Jim and Blair. He'd been called to a meeting he knew nothing about, and he'd been effectively ambushed not only by his best team of detectives, but by three seriously intimidating figures.

Just before they were called into the room, Simon realized he was in trouble. He had known Jim Ellison a long time, and he recognized that particular brand of stoic in his friend. It wasn't the kind he reserved for the job or for particularly difficult situations. It was the kind of even expression that had, in the past, been a precursor to something outrageous – like the time all the coffee in Major Crimes had been replaced with powdered sugar. Add to that the fact that Blair Sandburg was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet and his face was fighting not to break into a broad grin, and Simon knew something was up. Obviously something the pair thought was a _good_ thing. This usually spelled trouble for their captain, however.

Banks stole a glance at the other three men joining the little party. Doctor Benton Quest looked composed and polite, but he kept eyeing Sandburg's antics and smiling very slightly. The bodyguard Race Bannon's face was openly creased with amused satisfaction and his blue eyes snapped eagerly. The only truly calm one was the government agent who had yet to speak a word to anyone gathered. But his presence had only increased the growing glee in Simon's friends, so he assumed all was well on that front, too.

The door opened and the Mayor's secretary showed them in before leaving them.

"It's good to see you again, Captain Banks," the Mayor said cordially, extending a hand to Simon. He shook it and nodded to the Police Commissioner as well.

"Thank you, ma'am." Simon decided to try to ease the way for whatever was about to happen. "This is Doctor Benton Quest and his associate Race Bannon," he introduced. "You already know Detective Ellison and Blair Sandburg."

"Thank you for taking the time to meet with us today, Mayor Lanning, Commissioner Walters," Doctor Quest stepped forward and clasped the offered hands warmly. "I know how busy you both must be, and I am grateful you were able to accommodate us on such short notice."

"Please, call me Naira," the Mayor smiled at Benton. "After all our correspondence, I feel as if I already know you quite well, Doctor Quest."

Simon noticed that Commissioner Walters did not respond to Benton so easily, but he wasn't surprised. William "Bulldog Bill" Walters was a largely fair man, but tough as nails and about as friendly. Simon also didn't miss how quickly the scientist had stepped into things before anybody could say anything about how or why the Mayor and Commissioner might know Sandburg. After all, their most recent interaction with the kid had been…difficult.

"My name is Agent Howard Fritz from the Department of Homeland Security," the government agent offered neutrally.

Walters glanced at the Mayor before clearing his throat. "Well, let's sit down and see what this is all about."

As they settled around the table, Simon could almost see the lines being drawn. The Mayor sat at one end, the Commissioner on her right hand. She waved Doctor Quest into the seat at her other side, leaving Simon on the Commissioner's right. Agent Fritz took up a place at the end of the table, and Race moved to sit beside Benton. Jim slid into the seat between Simon and the agent, and Blair settled in between Race and Fritz with a small smile. Simon wondered if he was being grouped with the outsiders, but a quick wink from Jim made him relax. He might not know what was going on, but Jim knew he would back them regardless.

"I will be as brief as possible," Agent Fritz began, folding his hands. "Everything you are about to hear is absolutely confidential and classified. I expect you to respect the sensitive nature of this." His voice was hard, and Simon was not totally surprised that the man's gaze fell on himself and the higher-ups. That the glare was momentarily turned on Jim, however, did surprise him. _Is Jim in on this or not_? he started to wonder.

"Approximately four years ago, Blair Sandburg began riding with Detective Ellison under the pretense of a doctoral study on closed societies. Three months ago, he declared himself to be a fraud and was summarily dismissed from Rainier University and, instead, offered a permanent position with the police department should he choose to pursue the proper accreditation."

The Mayor nodded, as did the Commissioner, and Simon could almost _feel_ the reminder of that particularly long argument in the man's stiffness. Getting Sandburg the shot at that badge had _not_ been easy.

"While this offer was made in good faith in spite of a great deal of negative public pressure, you must have realized that even as a detective, Blair Sandburg could never have testified before a court of law without endangering any prosecution to which he was attached. As a self-professed fraud, his credibility would be non-existent. May I ask how you intended to handle this situation?"

The Mayor looked at the Commissioner, and Walters glared at Simon, who cleared his throat. When he spoke, it was with firmness. "Not all officers are ever called to testify, nor to prove their credibility. As long as Sandburg cleared any potential investigations by Internal Affairs, his partner could have worked with the DA."

"That's a slightly shoddy plan," Agent Fritz said with a superior smile.

Simon sensed Jim tense beside him. He peeked over to see how Blair was handling this. But the young man at the center of so much trouble, though clearly pained by the damage to his reputation, was still calm and largely unruffled. _Good for you, kid_, Simon thought. _You always did have more backbone than anybody gave you credit for_.

Walters appeared to be about to make a snide comment, but Fritz continued matter-of-factly, "However, the point is moot. Blair Sandburg could never have testified in open court. He cannot be called for cross-examination."

"Why?" Mayor Lanning asked.

"Because for more than the last six years, he has been engaged in highly classified research for the government."

Simon felt his jaw drop.

"The nature of Doctor Sandburg's research is a matter of national security, so I cannot reveal it to you at this time. But for this reason, he could never have become a Detective regardless of the offer made."

"_Doctor_ Sandburg?" Simon felt himself blurt.

"Perhaps that is a bit premature," Agent Fritz actually smiled a bit. "The formal process has not yet been completed, but I am confident that when Blair defends his thesis in a matter of weeks he will receive the doctorate in full."

"But the university fired him!" Bill Walters was becoming red in the face.

"Blair's doctorate will be awarded by a panel of government scientists who are cleared for the information contained within his dissertation," the agent replied evenly. "Due to the highly sensitive nature of his studies, I'm sure you understand that his doctoral committee must be very carefully vetted, and the defense will not be public. His thesis will be deemed classified and released only under certain circumstances, but the doctorate itself will be quite real."

Simon made his voice work. "Does—does this mean you've been doing government research _this whole time_?" he managed, staring at the young man he thought he knew. He looked wildly to Jim for a moment, remembering more than one conversation about how the Sentinel secret could never be given to the federal authorities for risk they'd yank him away to be a lab rat for life.

"I'm sorry, Simon," Blair said softly. "I never really lied to you, though. But you know me. I'm really good at obfuscating the truth."

Simon's chest tightened with betrayal. This was a person he considered a friend, a good friend. How could Blair have been lying to him for so long? _Wait_, he thought. _Wait. He might have been able to keep this from me, but he'd never be able to keep it from Jim. There's more here than they're saying. There's holes in this story. This official version is good, but not good enough, not when I know the kid like I do. And...he didn't actually admit to working for the government, just that his research was classified. I wonder how recently it got deemed Top Secret. I'd bet my badge it wasn't six years ago! When we're done here, I'm going to get some real answers or the pair of them will be sorry._

"If there was an agent of the DHS operating in my city, especially as a consultant with my own men, I should have been informed!" Walters protested, obviously angry.

"In this case, Blair's discretion was paramount to any jurisdictional issues. He understood that what you knew could very well prove a profound risk to innocent lives. And when agents were closing in on dangerous information, he publicly sabotaged his own credibility rather than risk compromising himself." Fritz's otherwise impassive expression turned hard. "How many of your men would do the same? How many would sacrifice everything – their livelihood, their friends, the good opinion of an entire city – just to keep a secret they could not even tell anyone they were keeping?"

Beside Simon, Jim closed his eyes. It was subtle, but Simon knew him too well. Even if Jim had known about all this from the beginning, that dig still hurt. Whatever was really going on, Blair had still made himself a laughing-stock and a target for ridicule, and Jim had practically abandoned him. _Good. Feel guilty. That was a real low point, Ellison, even for you_.

There was a long pause before Mayor Lanning spoke up. "So, if I may ask, what is the purpose of this meeting? You've established that Mister Sandburg cannot become a detective, and that his actions were justified by national security concerns, but I fail to see how this has much bearing on the future, let alone why it concerns anyone other than Bill."

"Doctor Quest?" Fritz gestured. "I believe you have the answer to that."

Benton nodded. "As you know, I have worked extensively with multiple parts of our government," he began. "I have been in Blair's position myself, in fact, where the information I possessed was of such a secretive nature that not even my family and friends could be permitted to know the whole truth of it, and I was forced to burn many professional bridges to ensure its safety." He stopped and glanced to Blair. "I can sympathize with how difficult this has been for you all."

He turned back to face the officials. "The suggestion I have posed and Blair has accepted is to step down from the position he holds with the Department of Homeland Security as an active agent and instead work for an independent foundation that can contract with the government to continue his research but provide him the freedoms inherent in being a private citizen. An active agent for the DHS cannot even claim their affiliation without violating their position's classified nature; a citizen can, if needed, claim government interest and let the legal system handle the rest without compromising oneself."

"So you wouldn't be an agent anymore?" Walters clarified.

"Not exactly," Blair said with a nod. "I'd be deputized still, but on inactive status. I would still have some amount of authority left and I could use it like a 'Get Out of Jail Free' card if bad stuff happened. Obviously, I'd still have a whole bunch of secret stuff I couldn't talk about, but at least I could _tell_ you I had secret stuff. And the DHS would send in a lawyer to handle the rest."

"But what's the point?" Simon seized onto the thing that mattered most to him. "If he's a private citizen, he can't ride with Detective Ellison. And if he's working for this independent foundation, he can't become a detective." He didn't say that the whole thing, the purpose of the last four years, was to keep Blair at Jim's side where he was needed. Where they needed each other.

"Blair's work is crucial to national security, more than I can possibly stress," Agent Fritz said, "and even if I can't tell you why, it is of the utmost importance that he be permitted to retain a position with Detective Ellison at this time. If necessary, consider him a consultant. His history with the DHS will certainly qualify him for status as a valuable asset on the team."

"The media circus alone..." Mayor Lanning began.

"Will be monitored by my office," Agent Fritz answered. "And if it gets out of hand, or if the public speculation becomes a hindrance to the pursuit of justice, I will take steps as needed. I assure you, I have no intention of permitting anything like what we saw a few months ago to happen again to either Blair or Detective Ellison and your Major Crimes division."

"Why Detective Ellison specifically?" Walters asked. Simon just caught Blair tensing – the first nervousness he'd shown yet.

But it was Jim himself who answered. "As a former Special Ops Ranger, I'm familiar with certain aspects of Blair's project. The DHS has granted me enough clearance to be able to help Blair continue his research without breaking his confidentiality. My history makes me unique among the detectives at Major Crimes."

"That's true; there aren't any others in my department with that kind of experience," Simon found himself agreeing, "and if whatever this is Blair's doing is so important, there's no better place for him. Obviously Sandburg came to our department for a reason." He actually smiled at the kid. "He'd have fit in better with Narcotics or Vice, frankly."

Blair grinned back.

"So, let me ensure I am understanding you correctly," the Mayor spoke slowly. "Blair Sandburg was working secretly for the DHS from before the beginning of his involvement with the police, and for some reason stamped 'National Security,' we cannot know what it the purpose of it was. The scandal of his dissertation was some kind of diversion or something to keep his work from being unraveled by…somebody," she frowned. "You're being quite vague about all of this."

"Yes, ma'am," Agent Fritz nodded blandly. She frowned even more.

"And now, although we broke protocol to offer Mister Sandburg the option to join the force officially as a detective, you're telling us that he won't be taking it up anyway so he can be a…what did you call it?" She glanced to Quest. "An independent researcher and an inactive agent?"

He nodded.

"But you would still like him to have full access to Detective Ellison of Major Crimes for some other vague reason having to do with his previous military experience, which, I assume, is also classified."

"You assume correctly," Agent Fritz nodded.

The Mayor pinched the bridge of her nose. "We are taking a great deal on faith under the auspices of 'National Security,' here," she said, her frustration clear. "Frankly, while I was pleased with Mister Sandburg's contributions to Major Crimes, I fail to understand what about him is so particularly of interest to the government and how it could possibly correspond to the mission of the DHS." She looked to Blair and dipped her head slightly. "No offense intended, of course."

"None taken," he replied with easy cheer. "I don't exactly look like establishment type."

"No, you certainly don't," Simon muttered under his breath. Jim twitched as though fighting a laugh.

Doctor Quest actually chuckled. "If only you knew, Naira, how many times I have heard that same sentiment expressed about me and my work. But Blair's work is at least as important as anything I have ever done and that is the truth of it."

The sheer power of that statement stunned the Mayor and Simon.

"So what exactly are you asking of us?" Commissioner Walters asked, turning back to Agent Fritz.

"First, that you instate soon-to-be Doctor Sandburg as a permanent consultant to the department. Don't worry about the consultant's fee. The DHS will compensate him directly. That should ease your budget worries." The Agent actually gave a small, sympathetic smile.

Simon fought not to smirk. If you told Walters that an elephant would help solve crimes by painting pictures on the walls of the precinct, he'd go along with it as long as _he_ didn't have to buy the peanuts.

"Second," Doctor Quest spoke up, "we are officially informing you that the DHS will be contracting with a new organization that will be setting up store in Cascade under the direction of myself and Blair. I will be the official head, but Blair will be in charge of some operations here. We may, on occasion, ask for your indulgence to handle any situations that arise privately, in accordance with our work for the government. I can assure you, any action we might take would have the full backing of the Department of Homeland Security, but in an emergency we might not have the time to procure all the correct approvals. I have learned from experience that forewarning the local officials often helps ensure better results for all concerned."

"Do you expect there to be 'situations' that might need to be handled?" the Mayor's eyebrows rose in concern.

"When it comes to national security," Agent Fritz said, "there is always a possibility for the worst case scenario. Part of the purpose set to Doctor Sandburg and Doctor Quest is to minimize risk, but given the sensitive nature of their work, conflicts are possible. We will be ensuring they both have the proper credentials to invoke DHS authority if it becomes necessary."

"Now, wait just a minute!" the Commissioner protested. "If you're going to come in here and set up shop and potentially turn my city into a warzone, I at least deserve to know why!"

"No," the agent looked straight into Walters' eyes with a cold, iron-hard stare. "_No_, _you_ _don't_. The only thing you deserve to know at this point is that Blair Sandburg is doing a supremely important service for his country, has been doing it for longer than he has been connected with the police force, and has the full backing of the United States federal government. All you need to know is that he and Doctor Quest are on the front lines of defending our country and her allies and have accepted all the risks inherent to that."

Agent Fritz stopped for a moment, and this time his smile was downright frigid. "Perhaps nothing at all will happen and we can look forward to decades of peaceful research. But more likely, at some point Doctor Quest or Doctor Sandburg or even Detective Ellison or Race Bannon acting on their orders will request help. And if that happens, you will give them _whatever_ they ask for _without_ question or complaint. I have already spoken to the governor and the appropriate Senate Committees and the White House. This goes all the way up the chain. Do I make myself clear?"

Simon caught himself rubbernecking between the shocked, outraged expressions of the Mayor and Commissioner and the icy steel of Agent Fritz. In the resulting silence, he glanced over to Jim and Blair. Both of them had shuttered their expressions completely, utterly closed off to anything. Doctor Quest, on the other hand, seemed a little contrite but ultimately resigned. But it was Race Bannon, sitting across from him, who was grinning broadly. Seeing Simon's surprise, he winked.

"I have already purchased the land for the organization we'll be founding," Doctor Quest moved smoothly into the awkward quiet. "It's located within the county, but well outside the metro area. I'll also have to establish a local office in a more central location so we can work with people without attracting attention. If there are any fireworks, the worst of them should be well away from populated areas."

Simon marveled at how calmly he said that. Like he expected a warzone and had already planned for it. _They do_, he suddenly realized. _They all expect this to bring violence. Like the Sunrise Patriots all over again, this time on our own front lawn. I wonder if this is how they feel in Langley, Virginia with the CIA next door. Oh, Jim. I didn't think the Sandburg Zone could get any bigger, so trust you two to find a way to prove me wrong. What have you gotten yourselves into this time?_

Whatever it was, it was _big_. Very, very _big_. But somehow, as Simon looked back to the partners he'd watched work together through more trouble than their share over the years, he didn't feel that even the threat of "ooga booga national security scary" was enough to dampen this. Somehow, though neither man had given it away, Simon knew this was the best possible outcome as far as they were concerned. And that was enough for him, too.

Simon leaned back in his chair, satisfied to watch the politics unfold around the inevitable conclusion.

It took more than an hour for the DHS agent to talk the Mayor and the Commissioner not only into agreeing with this crazy plan, but to get through the worst of their angry resistance into unwilling resignation. Simon had a pretty good feeling that within the month the pair of them would be taking as much credit as they could get – if things went that way and if they were allowed to talk about it on TV, of course.

After some less friendly farewells (but it could have been so much worse), while the Commissioner stayed behind to talk to the Mayor, the others made their way to the now-quiet lobby, the building's afternoon traffic having largely died down. But Simon knew from the tip of Jim's head that the Sentinel was still listening in on their bosses. From the small smile, whatever he heard was amusing and not worrying.

"Blair, Jim, it was good to meet you," Fritz said, smiling. "You handled yourselves like a couple of old hands in there. I expected nothing less of Captain Ellison, given Robert's stories. And, of course, Benton, I knew I could count on you."

Jim glanced to Simon. "Robert's one of my old buddies and, apparently, a mutual friend."

"Thanks a lot, Howitzer," Race shook the man's hand warmly. "It always goes so much better with you in the room. Glad to see you haven't lost your touch."

"Howitzer?" Simon asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah," Race grinned. "He's DHS heavy artillery. He comes in low and rains down terror from above until no entrenched position can stand."

"I'll say," Blair agreed cheerfully. "Glad you're on our side, man."

"Likewise, Blair," the agent smiled. "If you have any trouble from here on out, you've got my card. I never mind bringing a little rain where a good man and his work is concerned. And I don't just mean Benton."

Blair lit up with the compliment.

Agent Fritz began to turn away, but paused and looked back. His dark eyes met Simon's intently.

"Something on your mind?" Simon asked a little challengingly.

"You're not on my list of approved civilian contractors, Captain Banks," he said. Then he looked to the others and frowned. "Make sure you get him clearance _before_ you ask him to put in a call on your behalf, okay? At least two weeks before, for once. I'm looking at you, Bannon. I know your track record."

"You're going to let us tell him everything?" Jim was clearly surprised.

"Could I stop you?" Fritz asked archly.

"Probably not, no," Race shook his head with a small laugh at Jim's expression. "Howitzer knows which battles aren't worth fighting. This is definitely one of those."

"Right then. I'll be waiting for the paperwork. Have a nice day," he nodded once before setting off down the hall.

"I didn't know there were people in the government like him," Blair said as the man vanished around a corner.

"There's not a lot," Race laughed, "but Howie and me go way back. There's nothing he likes more than what he calls 'aggressive bureaucratic warfare.' This little project of yours and Benton's will keep him entertained for _weeks_."

"So is somebody going to fill me in on what's _actually_ going on?" Simon asked, pinning all four men with a stern frown that not one of them took seriously.

Doctor Quest nodded. "Let's get somewhere else, first. We've got someone for you to meet."

-==OOO==-

Three hours later, Simon found himself nursing a beer sitting on a lawn chair looking out over the Pacific Ocean. The hotel's rooftop observation area was deserted other than himself, Jim, Benton Quest, and Jessie Bannon. Blair, Race, and the boys Jonny and Hadji were out together, "patrolling." Which, as Blair had explained, meant he was teaching Jonny and Hadji how to refine their teamwork with Jonny's Sentinel senses and Race was watching their backs. Though the threat of Wellmen was still fresh in their minds, Agent Fritz had assured the group that he would have his ears to the ground in case anyone started to move – and when Race agreed that was protection enough, it told the others how good Fritz's access was. Plus, with Jim up here, nothing would escape his legendary notice.

And the quiet was just what Simon needed after the leisurely dinner that had centered around a story too fantastic for words.

Simon let out a long breath. Another Sentinel. A _seventeen-year-old_ Sentinel at that. A worldwide network of authoritarian governments using Sentinels as their own private army. Secret breeding centers. And a new Foundation – the Sensory Evaluation and Learning Foundation, to be specific – established by the Quests to serve as a combination training facility, refugee shelter, experimental lab, and rehabilitation center. Plus all the potential dangers from mercenaries, terrorists, and antagonistic nations looking to keep the West from developing their own Sentinels who could work freely and without oversight. And on the other hand, the Foundation would have the DHS in their back pocket to cover their tracks and control any fallout, not to mention lending tactical support _and_ ensuring Blair got a doctorate through military channels all because Benton Quest was _just that influential_.

_Dear god_, he thought to himself_. If the Sandburg Zone gets any bigger, it might take over the whole world_.

"You all right, Captain Banks?" Benton asked, looking carefully at him.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said after a moment. "It's just a lot to take in, you know." Then, "And for the last time, call me Simon. You're not under my command." He smiled wryly. "After hearing about the DHS getting ready to pull rank even over me and my team, it's almost the other way around."

"Don't _ever_ let Sandburg catch you saying that you think you're under the Foundation's command," Jim said wryly. "You'll never hear the end of it."

Simon mock shuddered, earning a laugh.

"I'm glad to know you're willing to understand," Benton said gently. "Given all that we've seen, I will feel better knowing not only are Jim and Blair here to keep an eye on things, but you'll be around to back them up as well. Race and I won't be here all of the time. But Jonny and Hadji and Jessie will be as soon as they begin taking classes at Rainier in a few semesters, so we'll be counting on you to look out for them."

"We will," Jim said solidly. Then he smirked at Jessie. "Not that all of them need it."

"Jim," Simon's voice was chiding. He didn't say it, but his disapproval was clear on his face.

"Oh, don't worry," Benton smiled. "They're young, but you can't imagine how capable they are."

"How capable they _think_ they are, maybe," Simon grumbled. Then he grimaced. "No offense, Jessie. I've got a boy about your age. I'd call him a lot of things – brave, loyal, _opinionated_ – but not capable, not like we mean."

"Yeah, well, I bet your kid wasn't fighting off terrorists when he was fifteen," she replied good-naturedly.

"Fighting, no," Jim said softly, "but Daryl's seen his share since he was younger than that."

"Hmm," Jessie considered. "Then I think I'd like to meet him."

Benton laughed. "Don't mind her. Jessie and Jonny are very competitive, and since Hadji usually demurs, they're always looking out for someone new to challenge."

"Your kids aren't like normal kids at all, are they?" Simon asked.

"Nope," Jessie grinned brilliantly. "Not one bit, and proud of it!"

"Well, there you go," Jim thumped the arm of his chair decisively. "I wouldn't believe it either if I hadn't seen it, Simon. They're kids, but they're good. But," his eyes twinkled with mirth, "if you let Daryl hang around them much, he's going to pick up all sorts of new habits."

"Just don't teach him to hack anything more official than a county water board, okay?" Benton asked with a long-suffering sigh.

Simon stared at the man. He wasn't kidding. _Oh, dear lord_.

Jessie and Jim burst out laughing.

"My city's not going to be quiet with you lot around, is it?" Simon pinned Jessie with a mock-glare.

"It was quiet before?" Jim asked. "Want me to count the number of-?"

"No," Simon interrupted testily. "No, thank you." He swigged his beer pointedly.

"If there's something specific worrying you," Benton began kindly, "you should know you can ask anything you want. Jim and Blair trust you, and since you'll be here helping them, I'm not going to keep you in the dark."

"I'm not honestly sure what worries me more," Simon admitted after a moment of thought. "I'm not thrilled about Cascade being the new tourist destination for terrorists and crazies, not more than usual, anyway. But I understand it," he looked at Jim seriously. "And I'd rather have it happen where I can do something about it than foist it off on someone who doesn't know the first thing about Sentinels."

He took another sip before continuing. "Honestly, _I_ never wanted to know any of the stuff about Sentinels, but I'm going to have to get over that, I guess. Or get used to tuning out half what Sandburg and Hadji are saying."

"You do that anyway," Jim accused.

"Can you blame me?" Simon returned with a withering look. Then, more seriously, "It's just…this makes it a different world, you know? This is the same Cascade I've always known, but where it fits in the scheme of things is about to change. Everything is about to change. All because of one overeager anthropologist and a couple of kids. I feel like I just looked down at my legs and discovered them pointing in the wrong direction and now I've got to learn to walk that way."

"Maybe," Jessie said slowly. "But maybe you should think of it differently."

"How so?" he turned to her curiously.

"For people who are Sentinels, it's like they've lived their whole lives chained to the ground and we're finally able to offer them another way of living, a way of walking and running when they could only crawl. And for the rest of us, it's learning to see that being different, even being unique, isn't a handicap, but a new kind of potential. Imagine what good people can do when there are Sentinels to help."

"That's why we included a little information about Blair in the official Foundation press release," Benton explained. "We needed to make sure certain people were paying attention. The right people will come to us when they start to understand who they are and what they can do. And what we can do to help them."

"I didn't know you were putting out a press release about this new Foundation of yours," Simon commented warily.

Jim snickered. "Remember that one reporter? The one with the hair?"

"_Don't_ remind me," Simon grumbled, rubbing his forehead. "I almost arrested him for annoying me to death after that press conference. You'd think the man would know it's bad taste to use a man's injury sustained in the line of duty to keep him from escaping pestering."

"Well," Jessie's eyes were alight with laughter, "that's who we sent the press release. It talks about the Foundation and about Blair being offered a leadership position due to his 'unusual experience.' Between what Blair did months ago and this news, it should get some attention."

"Why did you leak that information to _him_? He's the most indiscreet man in the Pacific Northwest!" Simon was appalled.

"I know," Jim grinned. Then he sobered. "The whole point of this thing is being able to slowly bring Sentinels into the light in this country. If Sandburg working for the Foundation raises a few questions, that's not a bad thing in the end."

"But what about you?" Simon pressed.

"I'm not happy about it," and _that_ was an understatement if he'd ever spoken one, "but it's...necessary. Besides, if the kid can stand in front of a million people live on CNN and claim to be a liar, I can handle a little public speculation. Anybody steps over the line, though, and I'll sue for harassment. Assuming the DHS doesn't get there first, and they'll be keeping a really sharp eye on the rumor-mill out here. Plus, with your permission, I could also arrest them for obstruction of justice and anything else we can come up with."

"Yeah, anything you want." Simon frowned. "Honestly, Jim, I don't see how you're so okay about this when a few months ago you nearly drove the kid out of your life over the breech of your secret. Now you're just a couple short steps from telling everybody outright."

"Well, the world changed around me and my perspective isn't what it was," Jim admitted. "When I thought I was a freak, I didn't want to hear it from anybody. I didn't want to be different. But now..."

He paused and glanced at his Captain with a new sorrow in his face. "Imagine you'd just found out that your people were prisoners, Simon, maybe even slaves. Not in the past, but right now. Even if you'd never seen them or heard of them before, your people are suffering _right now_. Would _you_ keep quiet? Would _your_ privacy be worth silently letting them go on that way forever?"

"I see what you mean." Simon's throat was tight, having been spontaneously invaded by his heart.

"It took me a while," Jim admitted lowly, "but I finally got it through my thick head that this isn't about me. Like being a cop isn't about me. Being a Sentinel was never about how _I_ felt about it. It's about standing up when other people need us to."

"And people need you to stand up now?" Simon pressed.

"Don't they?" asked Benton pointedly.

"Well, I guess...if I had a department full of Jim Ellisons," Simon said, "there'd be no more unsolved cases, no more bad guys getting away. No more missing victims."

"It's not just that," Jessie said. "Most Sentinels in the world don't seem to have Guides, don't seem to know about parts of their heritage that aren't directly useful to government service. They're operating as only a piece of what they could be. If every Jim Ellison knew how to be a Sentinel for real, they could live their own lives and choose for themselves."

"And if every Jim Ellison had a Blair Sandburg at his side," Benton added, "he would find out that there's no limit to what a man can do when he puts his mind to it."

"We're going to change things, Simon," Jim said solidly. "Maybe secretly, maybe slowly, but someday there will be Sentinels everywhere, and we'll be safer and better protected than we've been in a long time. The Sentinel will protect the people and the land, and the Guide will lead and heal the human spirit. That's what we're _for_."

"I thought you didn't go in for that kind of thing, Jim," Simon said, honestly surprised. "I thought you just wanted to be a regular cop. Not Superman."

Jim looked at Benton and Jessie before turning to Simon with an oddly serene, open look on his face.

"I thought so, too. Turns out the cape kind of suits me." He smiled. "Besides, if I don't step up now, before long it'll be Jonny leading the way. I figure I should at least take a shift in the air before I had the cape over to the kid."

"Well, well," Simon sat back with a lazy grin. "Never thought I'd see the day Jim Ellison admits to being a hero."

"I'm not a hero," Jim replied, still smiling. "I'm a Sentinel."

-==OOO==-

End of Arc 1


End file.
